


The Wolves in the Shrieking Shack

by anticupid16



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticupid16/pseuds/anticupid16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Teen Wolf Hogwarts AU based on this: http://asheathes.tumblr.com/tagged/this-was-so-fun-to-make-c%3A<br/>Basically, Stiles and Scott are muggle-borns both invited to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There, they meet new friends, are sorted into different houses, and eventually have to deal with the horrors of Werewolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Stiles and Scott got their letters about the same time. They had no idea what they were, and when they opened them to find invitations to Hogwarts School they’d laughed to themselves, thinking it was all a joke. It wasn’t. Scott and Stiles had something in common: They were both muggle borns with single parents. Granted, they couldn’t confirm they were completely muggle because of this. Stiles’ mother had died when he was very young, before he started exhibiting the strange behavior that his father grudgingly accepted as magic after some convincing. Scott’s father had skipped out when his mother admitted to being pregnant. There was every chance that the two of them were what they found out to be called half-bloods, but no guarantee.

What was definite: they were going to Hogwarts. Their parents had driven together to say goodbye at King’s Cross, and it had taken the brain power (and Scott’s ability to accidentally lean against walls that aren’t real) of all four of them to figure out where the entrance to Platform nine and three quarters was. The train was enough to amaze Scott, who stared at it wide-eyed as robed students clambered on along with students dressed in muggle clothes. Stiles was mildly impressed (okay, he thought the train was super cool, too) but he wanted to see the school before he decided if he liked it at all.

They said goodbye to their nervous parents, managed to wrangle their trunks onto the train, and found a compartment that was empty. Sitting down across from each other, they stared stoically at the window before Stiles saw Scott grinning and had to copy him. “We’re going to a wizarding school,” Scott said, wiggling a little in his seat and catching sight of his mom. While he waved, Stiles looked out into the corridor of the train to see people walking in the hallway.

It was then that Stiles caught sight of the most radiantly beautiful girl in the whole world, and he grabbed Scott’s wrist to make him look at her as she passed by. She had long, red hair; big, hazel eyes; and a smug little smile on her face as she skipped down the corridor. She called out to somebody, and a boy their age emerged from a compartment, which they both disappeared into a moment later. “Who was that?” Stiles asked dreamily, leaning against the door of their compartment.

“Her name is Lydia,” said a small voice. Scott and Stiles turned in sync to see a short girl standing there, holding a rucksack and looking awfully nervous. “Lydia Martin. She says she’s a descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.” Scott raised his eyebrows, as if he were impressed by this information, when Stiles knew very well that Scott had no idea who Rowena Ravenclaw was because when Stiles had tried to explain about the Hogwarts founders to Scott—after a lot of combing through books from Flourish and Blott’s—Scott hadn’t cared one bit after Stiles had finished talking about Godric Gryffindor and his characteristic bravery (of course Scott would be caught up with  _that_ guy). 

“Well I’m Stiles, this is Scott,” Stiles said, realizing that Scott was too dumbstruck to say anything. The girl smiled a little bit.

“I’m Allison. Do you guys mind letting me sit with you? Everywhere else is full…”

“Of course!” Scott said, suddenly remembering how to work his voice, and they leaned back to let Allison come into the compartment. She perched on the edge of the bench across from Scott, ducking nervously under her hair.

“Are you guys muggle-born?” she asked quietly, and Stiles and Scott nodded.

“Oh… I’m a half-blood. My mum is a pureblood witch, but my dad was muggle born. He’s an auror, now, though.”

“Auror?” Scott asked. Another thing he hadn’t paid attention to from Stiles, evidently.

“They’re like the police of the wizarding world,” Allison explained. “They catch dark witches and wizards and make sure they go to jail.”

“Wow,” Scott said.

“My dad’s a muggle policeman,” Stiles supplied, and Allison looked up. “I mean, he has a gun instead of a wand, and he usually just goes to check out traffic accidents, but he could still do dangerous stuff!” Allison giggled and Scott almost looked like he was pouting.

 

The train ride was long enough for them to learn a little bit more from Allison. Of course, when Allison explained the four Hogwarts houses to Scott he paid attention. Allison told them that her dad had been a Gryffindor and her mum had been a Ravenclaw, but she wasn’t sure which one she would be in. She admitted to preferring Gryffindor, to which Scott immediately agreed and promised they’d all three be in Gryffindor. Stiles, of course, secretly wanted to be a Ravenclaw, but he didn’t say anything. He’d end up where he ended up.

They put on their robes when Allison said they were nearing the school, and for the last few minutes all three eleven year olds stared out the window at the approaching Hogwarts school. “Wow,” Stiles and Scott said together.

“It’s a castle!” Scott remarked, while Stiles rolled his eyes and Allison giggled a bit more behind her hand. The first years were ushered across the lake in small boats, through the corridors, and finally in front of the Great Hall. Scott surreptitiously squeezed Stiles’s wrist under his robes and Stiles flashed a nervous smile at his best friend. On the other side of Scott stood Allison, her robes too long for her hands and her hair around her face as she concentrated rather hard on her shoes.

Allison was the first person called up to the Sorting Hat and when her name was read she gave a little squeak. Scott urged her forward, telling her a few reassuring things before she climbed the steps to the stool that Professor McGonnagal had put out for them. The Hat sat on her head for a few moments before announcing: “GRYFFINDOR!” A loud cheer rose up from one of the four tables in the Great Hall, and Allison beamed widely as she dashed over to the table, taking a seat where she was told and shooting a thumbs up to Scott and Stiles.

The list continued alphabetically. The first Ravenclaw—Stiles wanted to see who his future housemates were going to be—was a tough looking boy named Vernon Boyd who didn’t show any kind of emotion as he walked to his table. At some point, Stiles was nearly bowled over—and Scott teetered a little—as a boy rushed to get to the stool. He apologized profusely and cringed when his name was called again—Isaac Lahey. Stiles wasn’t surprised when he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Stiles watched as Lydia Martin walked up a few names later, looking graceful as anything. She sat daintily on the stool and pursed her lips as the Hat was placed on her head. When it called out “RAVENCLAW!” she smiled widely and joined the table that Stiles was absolutely determined to sit at next.

Scott was called up and Stiles gave him a big grin, feeling a little guilty for wanting to be in a different house. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t have classes together, though, and they would get to see each other. They just would be in different houses. Scott looked like he was concentrating very hard for the seemingly long pause that it took for the Sorting Hat to make up its mind before crying “GRYFFINDOR!” Allison stood up to clap as Scott hurried over and took the saved seat beside her. He patted the seat on his other side when he caught Stiles’s eye.

After a lot of kids whose names started with ‘N’ and ‘P’, there were few ‘R’. The last was a girl named Erica who was put in Ravenclaw. She sat next to the scary looking boy from earlier as if they were friends, which was entirely possible. Stiles was called next, to his surprise, and he rushed up with his ears burning as people laughed at his name.

“Ah, another muggle-born,” a voice whispered in his ear. Stiles almost jumped, and he looked up at the brim of the hat. “Yes, yes, you’ve got quite the impressive mind. You could go far, boy, if you were in the right place. Where is that you wonder? Well, that could be in Gryffindor—with your friends. That could be in Hufflepuff—you’d be a valuable addition to them, and you love your friends a lot, you’d fit in just find there. Or perhaps Ravenclaw—where you’ll be competing with the best of the best. Ah, you like that? Well, in Slytherin you’ll become great. Yes, great. There’s nothing wrong with being a Slytherin boy, you’re certainly smart enough. What’dya say? SLYTHERIN!”

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what had happened during his “chat” with the Hat but he walked to the Slytherin table amidst their cheers, avoiding Scott’s eye as he passed by the Gryffindors. He sat down and checked his tie. It had already turned green and silver. “Welcome, kid,” said a student on his left. She was maybe a year or two older than him, and she grinned widely. “I’m Cora,” she said, and they shook hands. Finally, the last student was called up. It was the boy who’d been sitting with Lydia on the train, and his name was Jackson and he was sorted into Slytherin. He sat across from Stiles and snorted.

“What?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Your name,” the boy retorted as food began to appear on the table. Stiles was too angry to even be amazed.

“My name is Stiles, I’ll have you know,” he responded, grabbing at some food to distract himself.

“Well, Stiles,” said a voice from behind. He turned and saw an older boy crossing his arms. There was a shiny badge bearing a ‘P’ on his chest. “Don’t cause any trouble with your new friends. Wouldn’t want problems in the Slytherin first year dorms. Peter Hale, fifth year prefect,” he said, grinning and taking the empty seat on the other side of Stiles. “That’s my niece, over there,” he said, gesturing at Cora. “We have a complicated family,” he said quietly, as if it were a conspiracy.

That night, Stiles lay awake in bed. He could hear Jackson snoring—he could already tell they weren’t going to get along—and he wished it were Scott. Scott had a distinctly different snore that was more relaxing and soothing than anything else, mostly because Stiles and grown up falling asleep to it. He missed Scott more than that time Scott had gone on a trip to France with his mum, leaving Stiles to mope around the house for a week. And he was worried that Scott would be mad at him for being a Slytherin. That Hat had been so darned convincing, whispering things to Stiles about how great he could become. Stiles had been better than Scott in school for a while now, but he felt he didn’t get enough credit for that. He just didn’t get in trouble for his grades the way Scott did sometimes. It was frustrating to never get the credit for what he managed to do. The Hat had said that Slytherin would change that…

In another tower at the same time, Scott was having trouble sleeping as well. He wasn’t sure that Stiles could be held responsible for being sorted into Slytherin, but he’d heard whispers very early on that Slytherin was the Bad House. All the Bad Witches and Wizards came from Slytherin, and Gryffindors didn’t get along with Slytherins. All Scott wanted was to be friends with Stiles still, and he hoped their houses wouldn’t get in the way of that….

 

As luck would have it, Scott and Stiles managed to maintain their friendship. There were some Slytherins—such as Jackson, who had quickly become Stiles’s rival in all things—who disapproved of Stiles and Scott. Others—such as Cora and Peter Hale—thought nothing of it, and treated Stiles no differently. The same seemed evident with Scott and the Gryffindor house. When Houses were split, Scott had Allison and Stiles had Cora and Peter. Through Jackson—since he was an unfortunately permanent fixture in Stiles’s life—Stiles grew closer to Lydia. They had apparently grown up together in the pure blood community, and within a few years at Hogwarts were dating.

Scott, Stiles, and Allison decided to join the Quidditch teams in order to see each other more often. Scott and Allison became Chasers, and Stiles beat Jackson out for the position of Seeker, leaving him a rather angry Beater. All seemed well for a few years, as they adjusted to a magical world with magical rules.

That is, until the first werewolf attack in Hogsmeade one fateful autumn day in their fifth year.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm really shocked by the feedback I've already gotten for this fic, so I went ahead and wrote out the first official chapter! I've decided that last one was the prologue. I've changed a few things around, such as the ages of the Hales, for the sake of my story's purposes. And this chapter isn't too sad because last night's episode of Teen Wolf made me cry and I needed a pick me up.

“I’m just saying, there’s no way that bludger was an accidental hit,” Stiles grumbled unhappily. The nurse had easily taken care of the black eye he’d been sporting half an hour ago, but he still ghosted his fingers over his eye and frowned every few moments. Scott rolled his eyes—he’d been doing that a lot since Stiles had been hit head on with a stray bludger during the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match. 

“Stiles, Jackson may not be pleasant, but he’s not going to knock his own Seeker out of commission. He’s not stupid.” Stiles pursed his lips and started twirling the quill in his hands between his fingers. They were sitting by the side of the Black Lake, Stiles still in his Quidditch robes and Scott wearing muggle jeans and shirt. They were supposed to be doing their work—Allison and Lydia would chastise them endlessly if they showed up at Hogsmeade the next day without their work done—but neither were concentrating too well. 

“All I’m saying is that Jackson is a shifty eyed little lizard and if he so much as smirks tomorrow, I’m going to deck him.” Stiles missed the most recent eye roll, as Scott actually chose to pick up the Potions textbook in front of him and inspect the page. Professor Harris was the Head of Slytherin House and had an obvious favoring towards them—well except for Stiles. Stiles wasn’t favored by most teachers, because he was a dripping ball of sarcasm during classes. He was forbidden from taking Divination at all. 

Stiles continued to mumble about conspiracy theories concerning Jackson and a Ravenclaw boy Stiles claimed was into the Slytherin Quidditch captain while Scott actually scribbled a few lines on his parchment. Stiles may be a pro at hurriedly finishing all of his assignments after procrastinating all weekend, but Scott was anxious to please Allison, and if that meant actually doing his Potions essay before the Hogsmeade trip, then so be it. 

Eventually, Stiles also started working on his assignments, though he was distracted when Scott asked him to review his Potions essay (there had been a lot of crossing out, but eventually Stiles approved of it). Stiles was on top of the Slytherin classes. He was the second-smartest fifth year, only coming in behind Lydia—Miss Genius herself. Scott, on the other hand, was falling to the back of that line. He’d never been the student that his best friend was and his mother wanted him to be, but at least he hadn’t flunked out of Hogwarts already! 

When the light began to fade, the boys packed up their books and split to their separate dormitories in order to drop off their bags. Upon insistence, Stiles took a shower as well, an changed into some casual robes. Scott clung to the muggle clothes he’d grown up with, and the muggle habits he was accustomed to, but Stiles had easily embraced the ways of the wizard. He didn’t like going around flaunting his blood status after his first year as a Slytherin. Apparently, Slytherins valued pure bloods and thought anything else was inadequate. Stiles used his deceased mother as a scapegoat, vaguely implying that she was a pure blooded witch, which at least put him a notch above that hated word: “mudblood.” And he wasn’t afraid to cast a bat bogey hex on anybody who dared toss that word at Scott. 

Stiles only allowed himself one day a week to abandon his house and eat at the Gryffindor table with Scott and Allison. For the first couple of years, they’d eaten together, while Stiles cringed at the whispers and rumors that spread behind his back in the common room. Luckily, Peter Hale had stuck up for him and crushed anybody who argued. But he’d also suggested that once he left Hogwarts, he wouldn’t be able to protect Stiles any longer and eventually the boy would have to buck up and join his Slytherin friends. Jackson and he still butt heads, but after Peter graduated, he’d made it a point to engage himself in Slytherin activities, such as Quidditch. He had quite a few friends in the Slytherin house, and therefore he found a niche for himself at the table. 

But that also meant that on Saturday nights when Jackson and Lydia didn’t come to dinner—he preferred not to think about what they might be doing instead—Stiles felt free to sit with Allison and Scott. Occasionally others would mix themselves between house tables. It all depended on who knew whom and how long they’d been friends. 

When Stiles slid onto the bench beside Scott and across from Allison, though, he found that the two were rather… Stoic. “What’s wrong?” 

“Look at this,” Allison whispered, pushing a newspaper clipping across the table to him. It was a clipping from the Daily Prophet, detailing a werewolf attack in Hogsmeade. The victim had died before they could even get her to healers. “Look at the name,” Allison urged. 

The victim was Laura Hale, twin sister to Derek Hale, who had graduated from Hogwarts a year ago. Which mean that Laura was also Cora’s older sister. Stiles shot a look over his shoulder at the Slytherin table to see if his friend was sitting there. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her all day. He turned back to read more about the article. The Hales had lived right outside of Hogsmeade for generations—an old pureblood family. A few years ago, there’d been a mysterious fire in their house, killing the family except for Peter, Laura, Derek, and Cora. All four of them had been students at Hogwarts at the time. Stiles was a second year, and he just remembered the four of them disappearing from school for a week, before returning somber faced and weary. 

Peter caused a lot of trouble the next year—his last at Hogwarts—but ultimately did well with his NEWTS and made it into a position at the Ministry. Cora was hazy on the details of what he did, saying it had something to do with magical creature control. The irony of this did not escape Stiles in that moment. Derek and Laura had pretty much vanished off the face of the earth in the summer since they left, though Cora assured Stiles they were still living with her, acting as her official guardians for one more year. 

“The poor family,” Stiles murmured softly, though that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. He could hear Allison elaborating—something she’d heard from her dad probably—but he was still focused on the article. There was an image of Laura’s body, strangely still for a wizarding newspaper. He shivered and put the article face down on the table again, staring at the beef stew in front of him. 

“They’re still letting us go tomorrow?” Scott said incredulously from beside him. Stiles raised his eyebrows and heard Allison tell him so. 

“Where did she die?” Stiles asked abruptly and Alison stammered out that the article didn’t say. “We have to find out.” 

“What?” 

“Are you crazy?” Scott hissed, leaning close. “We can’t go around snooping for that stuff! Plus, what if we come across the werewolf!” 

“That’s the idea,” Stiles responded, finally finding his appetite once more and piling food onto his plate. “Look, the article said the body was found last night, but the attack had to have happened on Wednesday—the full moon. Usually only the day before and day after are danger days. The wolf is either long gone or no longer dangerous. We’ll be fine.” Allison looked like she was considering it, but Scott opened his mouth to protest. “C’mon, we’ll just do a little bit of snooping. I promise we won’t wander anywhere we’re not allowed, like the Shrieking Shack.” 

“You promise?” 

“Pinky swear,” Stiles assured him. “C’mon, eat before I eat for you.” 

 

The next morning, Stiles excitedly packed a rucksack with things he thought he might need. Notepad, quills, some Honeydukes candy. Allison and Scott were whispering to themselves when he joined them, tossing his green and silver scarf over his shoulder. “Ready guys?” he asked as the pack of Hogwarts students began down the path through the snow. 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Scott grumbled. 

“I’m actually not joining you guys,” Allison said with a guilty smile. “Lydia promised to treat me to Butterbeer. Jackson couldn’t make this trip, so she’s got nobody else to hang out with.” 

“That’s fine,” Stiles said, shrugging. “Quality male bonding time!” When they reached the Three Broomsticks, Allison hugged them both and ducked inside. Scott watched through the window until he confirmed that she was seated at a booth with Lydia, before he would let Stiles drag him away for some snooping. They combed the paths of the little town, but didn’t find anything. No suspicious spots in the dead grass, no taped off areas, no keep out signs: nada. 

“Stiles, just let it go,” Scott groaned, sitting down on a boulder. “We’re not going to—“ 

“Maybe it’s not in the town,” Stiles said, pacing. He’d worried a rut into the ground with his footsteps. “Maybe—“ 

“You promised we wouldn’t go somewhere forbidden!” Scott reminded him harshly.

“C’mon, it’s not like we’ve never gone to the Shrieking Shack before,” he said, stopping in his tracks and holding his arms out. “Scott, do you love me?” 

“Yeah, dude, but—“ 

“Then at least be my look out.” 

“Fine. I’ll be your look out. Nothing else.” 

Stiles leaped up excitedly and started walking briskly towards the decrepit fence that was supposed to prevent students from approaching the supposedly haunted hunk of wood they called a shack. There was a loose board about three feet into the fence, which Stiles knew he need only push a bit to squeeze through. “So, if someone comes—“ 

“I shoot blue sparks over the fence and you either hide or run for it.” 

“Great. I’ll be back!” Scott tried to watch Stiles for a little, before he turned his face in the direction of the town. It was quiet, the only sound the wind rustling the branches of the trees. Then Scott heard a twig crack. He whipped around, his hand reaching for his wand in his back pocket. There was nobody there. He heard a crackle again, this time on the other side of the fence. Assuming it was Stiles, Scott put his wand back in his pocket and turned. No Stiles. Frowning, Scott pushed past the loose board in the fence. 

“Stiles? Hey, dude, there’s nobody out here! You’re clear!” No answer. Scott started towards the Shrieking Shack, hoping to catch up with Stiles. Then he heard voices, and quickly he ducked behind a tree. The voices passed—likely a couple of students just wander by—and he started to take the route he and Stiles had developed in their third year—the first time they’d ventured to the Shrieking Shack—in order to hide from any passers by. “Stiles!” he called again, and his voice echoed against the trees. He could barely see either the fence or the Shrieking Shack from his vantage point, so he really had no way of knowing if Stiles was in either place. 

Another crack echoed behind him, and he turned. There was nothing there, as per usual. Maybe the Shack really is haunted, he thought to himself with a shiver. He was knocked down by something, something strong. With a cry, Scott tried to turn himself over onto his back, so he could see his attacker, but whatever it was kept him firmly down. He heard the bite before he felt it, though. He heard the teeth slash through his clothing before he felt the sharp stinging and burning in his side. Then, as he curled in on himself in pain, the thing was gone. Scott scrambled to sit up, breathing heavily from the pain. 

“Scott?” 

“St… Stiles!” Scott yelled, voice hoarse. Stiles found him in a moment, and quickly knelt by him, wand in hand. 

“Oh man this looks bad,” Stiles said quietly, and Scott almost whimpered—he’d never admit that. “Okay… Okay, we need to—“ 

“No! Don’t make me move,” Scott said, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. “Just… Hold on for a moment.” Stiles fluttered about, saying things about spells and tightening his grip on his wand, but he didn’t actually try anything. “Okay, patch me up.” 

“What? Scott, are you crazy? You need—“ 

“Just repair the clothes, and make a bandage or something,” Scott said loudly, and Stiles flinched away, before coming closer. Scott didn’t pay much attention to what his best friend was doing to his wound, but the next thing he knew there was a bandage taped to his side, and his clothes were clean of blood and tears. 

“Can you stand?” Stiles asked, and Scott found that he could. He put his arm around Stiles’s shoulders and leaned in heavily. “Okay, yeah, you need to go to the medical wing.” 

“What do we tell them?” 

“Well what happened?” Scott frowned, trying to decide how to phrase it. 

“I… Something… I fell. Something pushed me, I guess, and I hit a few branches wrong.” From the way Stiles was pursing his lips, Scott knew that he hadn’t fooled him. But he didn’t elaborate and Stiles was a little preoccupied with getting his friend out of the woods and back to Hogwarts. By the time they made it through the fence, Scott was able to walk on his own. He was sure Stiles had some sort of brainy explanation for it, but he could have sworn the pain was getting better. He convinced Stiles that they should go back to town and see if they could find Allison and Lydia before skipping out, so they went straight to the Three Broomsticks. Stiles wanted Scott to stay outside, but Scott was feeling better already and he insisted a Butterbeer would help. “It really wasn’t as bad as it looked,” he said, and he pushed the door open. Allison and Lydia were still at their booth, so Scott and Stiles just slid in across from them with their own Butterbeers. 

“Miss us?” Stiles asked, his usual wit cut short. He shot a look at Scott, who was distracted by Allison’s foamy mustache. 

“You’ve got something,” he said, leaning across the table and reaching to wipe the foam off her face. She blushed, but smiled and thanked him. Lydia raised her eyebrows at Allison before turning her attention back to the boys. 

“And where have you two been? Up to no good as usual?” she asked mostly looking at Stiles. 

“I resent that,” he said immediately, holding his hands up as if to prove his innocence through denial. “We were just snooping a little bit and we only passed one no trespassing sign, thank you very much.” 

“Mhmm,” she responded, taking another dignified sip of her Butterbeer. “Scott?” 

“Yeah, he was pretty good today. Have you two really been sitting here the whole time that we were gone?”

“Yep,” Lydia responded, popping the ‘p.’ “We saw some interesting faces. Derek Hale came in here, you know. Ordered a shot of Firewhiskey, exchanged a few words with somebody, then left. Looked kind of shady to me.” 

“Lydia,” Allison hissed, shaking her head. “He looked like he was in mourning,” she said sadly. “And the poor boy; losing his parents and his sister so close to each other. You’d think it was a wartime again.” That comment sobered them all up a little bit and they all took solemn drinks of their Butterbeers. 

Stiles wished he’d been there when Derek had come in. Granted, all of the Hales were intimidating in their own rights, but Derek was the scariest of them all. A Gryffindor, he’d broken the usual Hale tradition of Slytherin House, but that hadn’t made him any less stoic and solemn than the rest of them—Peter the primary exception to the rule. He’d played Keeper for the Quidditch team since Stiles had started at Hogwarts, and he was certainly the largest player on the team. Not to mention the scariest. Derek hadn’t really had friends. Supposedly, he’d had a girlfriend a few years back, probably when Stiles and Scott were first years, but he’d heard a rumor that she’d died mysteriously. 

But no matter how much Derek Hale frightened Stiles (which wasn’t much, what could he do against Stiles’s Seeker skills and magical abilities?) he woud be the perfect person to interrogate concerning Laura’s death. Scott seemed to sense what he was thinking, and gave him a look that told him how many lines that would be crossing, so Stiles kept his comments to himself and returned Scott’s look with one of concern. “Scott took a tumble in the woods,” he announced to the table, causing Scott to shove his shoulder and blatantly deny it. “Go on, show ‘em your battle scar!” Stiles said, irritated now. 

Scott grumbled and lifted the hem of his shirt. But… The bandage was barely stained. “I swear it was bleeding more earlier,” Stiles said, scrunching his nose. Scott looked down in shock and started to pull the bandage off. 

“Ew! Don’t do that here!” Lydia shouted, and she forced the boys to go to the back to the bathroom. Once in the poorly lit men’s room, Stiles helped Scott pull off the magically made bandage and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

“Scott you need to look in the mirror.” So he did. 

The wound was a bite mark, perfectly shaped like the jaws had just clamped right there. And it wasn’t bleeding anymore. In fact, it looked faded and pink, as if it had been healing for a month. Scott tossed the bandage in a rubbish bin and ran his finger around the bite. 

“Scott… I think you were bit by a werewolf.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't write/post this sooner! I just moved in and started classes in the last couple of weeks so I'm still adjusting to a new lifestyle. I also had other things to update. But here we are! The next installment!

“The book says—“ 

“I don’t care what the stupid book says!” Scott said, slamming shut the book in front of him and glaring at Stiles in warning. They heard a throat being cleared and Stiles looked at the librarian, making a gesture as if to say “sorry.” 

“All I’m saying is that it’s very characteristic of a werewolf bite and with the recent attacks—“ 

“Stiles. I wasn’t bitten by a werewolf; that’s crazy. They don’t just bite and run, do they?”

“Typically no, but—“

“Then it was some random animal and it wasn’t as serious as we thought it was at first. Now I have to go or Danny will kill me for being late to practice.” Scott grabbed his bag, leaving the book on lycanthropy on the desk in front of him, and scurrying away from Stiles as quickly as he could without attracting unwanted attention from the librarian. 

Scott was still fuming as he entered the Gryffindor changing rooms and dropped his bag. He was fumbling with the clasps on the front of his Quidditch robes when Allison tapped on his shoulder. “Let me help,” she said, easily fixing the problem Scott was having with getting one hook into the right place.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck before lunging for his gloves when the captain—Danny—blew his whistle and summoned them to the pitch. Allison held Scott’s broom as they walked outside so he could put the gloves on.

“How’s that scratch from yesterday?” she asked, and Scott shrugged.

“Better. Spent less than five minutes in the hospital wing last night and was cleared for Quidditch practice.” 

“That’s good. Stiles seemed really worried.” 

“He was just overreacting.” Danny started speaking then, and they both turned their attention forward once more. They were told to break up into groups so that they could run some drills, all members acting as either Chaser or Keeper. Allison and Scott immediately paired up, mounting their brooms and picking one of the goal posts. At first, Scott was playing Keeper, but he was so awful that he almost fell off of his broom when Allison sent the Quaffle flying at him too fast. They swapped positions, and Scott found himself able to score a few times against Allison. It was no great secret that he was perhaps the worst player on the team. 

At the end of practice, Scott had a headache from the three Quaffles that had hit him on the head, and despite what he’d told Allison, his side was aching a little. Of course, the nurse had said that there might be some discomfort, so he didn’t think there was anything to worry about until he told Stiles about the pain at dinner. 

“Are you kidding me? You thought that was nothing?”

“Stiles, it’s barely a twinge, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Scott, this could be serious. If you’re a werewolf you’ll have to register as a dark creature with the Ministry. You’re not going to have as many job opportunities, you might not be able to go to school, you certainly won’t be allowed to play Quidditch—“

“Thank you, so much, for your reassurance,” Scott said bitterly, prodding the stew on his plate. “Just shut up before somebody hears you.” As if on cue, Allison and Lydia sat down across from Stiles and Scott.

“How’s the head?” Allison asked, and Scott stammered something about it being better while Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to devouring what was on his plate. It looked as though she was going to say something else when she froze, and started to sink in her seat, prompting Stiles, Scott, and Lydia to look over at the entrance to the Great Hall.

Standing in the doorway was Allison’s father with another auror, talking to the Headmaster in hushed tones. Without making eye contact with his daughter, Auror Argent and his partner left as suddenly as they’d appeared, leaving the Headmaster to make his way to the front.

“Attention, students. Due to the recent attacks in Hogsemeade, we are ceasing all weekend visits for students indefinitely. We will also be having aurors patrolling the school grounds regularly to ensure that no harm comes to any of you while you are here at Hogwarts. We hope to have a safe year here, and would like to remind students that the forest is strictly forbidden to all students at all times. We will be enforcing an earlier curfew; all students must be in their respective common rooms by eight each night, and any violations of this policy will be dealt with accordingly. Thank you for your attention and cooperation.” 

Within seconds the Great Hall was overflowing with noise. There were angry shouts from older students—seventh years who felt that they deserved one last year of visitation—and sad whispers from younger students who had just gotten their privileges. Of course, the reminder about the Forbidden Forest didn’t surprise anyone, since that warning was given at the beginning of every year. The fact that aurors would be patrolling the school: that was new. 

“Did your dad mention anything about this? Did he say he would be in town?” Allison shook her head and Lydia bit her lip. 

“Not that I was a fan of sneaking off the castle grounds before, but doesn’t it feel like they’re overreacting? A student wasn’t bitten, and it was in Hogsmeade. Not every little thing that happens in Hogsmeade affects Hogwarts.” 

“They must think the wolf is lurking around somewhere,” Stiles said quietly. “They think that it’s dangerous and on the loose and they want to catch it before it kills anyone else.” 

“So there really is a werewolf loose in the countryside?” Allison said quietly. When Stiles opened his mouth to respond, she held up a finger and said, “That was rhetorical.” Nobody spoke for the rest of the meal, and they didn’t eat any more. Stiles kept shooting concerned glances at Scott, who was adamantly ignoring him in favor of scratching at the wood of the table. Lydia left first, leaving to join Jackson and disappearing with him while Stiles watch with narrowed eyes.

Stiles didn’t get a chance to bug Scott anymore with Allison there, and he let them return to their dormitory in peace. Luckily for him, in the Slytherin common room, he found Cora relaxing on one of the green leather couches with a book in hand. “Did you hear about the aurors? Of course you did, it was your sister, sorry about that by the way. Do you think this means the wolf is going to come on castle grounds?” Cora raised an eyebrow, showing no emotion otherwise. Stiles tapped his foot impatiently, sat on the coffee table beside her, and ignored the sharp reprimand from the passing prefect. 

“I didn’t know there were aurors on the grounds,” Cora said casually, shutting her book and sitting up to allow Stiles to sit beside her. 

“Well they are. Allison’s dad came into the Great Hall and everything. They’re enforcing an early curfew, ending all Hogsmeade visits, and patrolling.”

“That sounds a bit extreme. Just because a man turns into a wolf once a month doesn’t mean he’s completely without reason the rest of the days. I don’t think there’ll be another attack nearby. That’s stupid.” Stiles licked his lips, nodding as he thought over what his friend had said. 

“That’s a good point, I didn’t even think of that. But what if the wolf doesn’t leave? What if… I don’t know, what if hypothetically this wolf was in town for a reason? Maybe he bit someone, and he wants to see that person turn?” Cora pursed her lips, but showed no other emotion. “Well?” 

“That's out of character. Most werewolves are loners.” 

“Do we know that for sure, though? Regular wolves have packs, maybe werewolves do too! Werewolves are on the very outskirts of our society, nobody really knows what’s going on with them.” 

“Then why are you asking me?” Stiles frowned. 

“Why not? Scott won’t talk about it, Allison doesn’t care, and the books I was reading earlier just have symptoms of lycanthropy and information on the new developments towards curing and managing the condition. Nothing talks about the social structure of wolves.” 

“Did you read anything about the Great Wizarding Wars?” 

“What? No, why?” 

“Apparently towards the end of the second war, one of the Death Eaters created a sort of underground wolf society. There was a member of the Order of the Phoenix investigating it, but he died in the Final Battle of Hogwarts so his research was never completely published. Apparently, though, they developed a sort of pack. You might be able to find that in the library.” 

“Cora you’re a genius, this is exactly why I was talking to you.” Without another word, Stiles darted from the common room. It was already half past seven, and if the new curfew was starting that night, he’d only have thirty minutes to find the right book.

 

It was only a chapter towards the end of a book about the Order of the Phoenix, but it was enough to keep Stiles up most of the night, despite his early morning double Potions. He read and reread the sections taken from the Order member’s research on the wolves of the sewers. Apparently they’d developed a hierarchy that placed the strongest and most dominant wolf at the top. This wolf was called the Alpha, and all the others were called Betas. If a wolf left their pack he was denoted as an Omega; a lone wolf. This structure was based on the historic structure of ancient wolf packs from before the development of the Ministry of Magic. Once Wizards organized and started keeping track of dark creatures, werewolves were no longer strengthened in packs. 

It became illegal for wolves to turn others to form a pack, since that was considered a form of assault. The new leaps in magical science towards curing lycanthropy led to many wolves “domesticating” themselves as the rogue wolves of the Wizarding Wars called it. They regarded those who were ashamed of their past as weaklings who deserved to be punished. Being a wolf, they believed, was something to be proud of. There were few documented cases in history of lycanthropy being passed on through blood, and it was believed that those ancient bloodlines had long since died out. But there was a theory that if two werewolves should come together under the perfect circumstances, a wolf could be born naturally rather than turned with a bite. 

Stiles thought all of this was fascinating, but he couldn’t for the life of him see the connection between the singular attack in Hogsmeade, Scott’s bite, and the aurors being stationed on Hogwart’s grounds. Before crashing in the early morning hours before his first class, Stiles took some hurried notes in a notepad he kept under his pillow. When he returned to them after a long day of struggling against the pull of sleep during his classes, he found them completely nonsensical. 

He’d written some rubbish about Alphas being able to mate and recreate the bloodline. He couldn’t find any mention of Alphas in the readings and he wondered where he’d gotten that idea. He’d also scribbled something about packs giving more strength to Alphas. Now that idea, he thought, could lead somewhere. 

If there was a wolf wandering around Hogsmeade with ideas in his head about pack hierarchy, he might think that creating a pack of his own would strengthen his own power. Perhaps Laura had refused to join, and this had resulted in her death. They didn’t really know the details of her death, though, did they? It might have been something completely different. She might have been torn apart for the sake of eating her heart out. When Stiles sat down to dinner beside Scott, his friend groaned. 

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Hear what?” Allison asked, sitting on the other side of Stiles. 

“Cora put me on track looking at other information. I found these documents written by an old member of the Order of the Phoenix who actually lived with some rogue werewolves during the second wizarding war. Essentially, wolves hadn’t been formed into groups in over two hundred years, since the Ministry established regulations for “dark creatures.” They had a hierarchy set up that was based on ancient pack bonds. Apparently, they believed that an Alpha was more powerful if he had many powerful betas—members of his pack. Maybe this wolf got the same idea and thinks that if he creates a pack, he’ll be more powerful.”

“But how would the aurors know that?” Scott asked, barely glancing up as Lydia sat down. 

“Are you talking about the werewolf thing again?” she asked, rolling her eyes and putting a piece of bread on her plate. “Look, they probably know who the suspect is, which is why they’re putting in so much effort to find them.” 

“Of course!” Stiles said, slamming the table with his palm. Scott waved to the prefect at the end of the table who had looked over, trying to reassure them that everything was fine. “Lydia you’re a genius!” 

“I know,” she said, shrugging.

“Maybe this werewolf isn’t just a randomly turned wolf. Maybe they were part of the rogue groups from the time of the Death Eaters! If the aurors have a positive ID on him, that means they knew his past and they know what he’s doing. He’s definitely trying to form a pack!” 

“If you say so,” Scott muttered. Every time Stiles brought up the topic of wolves again—in passing when they ran into each other in the hallway, at lunch when Stiles had held up a book he was reading and pointed to the title, and now when he insisted on spreading more theories around—he felt his blood boil. He knew that Stiles was being his usual ‘helpful’ self, but the fact that there were no signs of being a werewolf and that there was no definitive proof that Scott had indeed been bitten by something should be enough to make Stiles drop it. 

Stiles wasn’t going to drop the subject any time soon, though. No, Stiles was way too fascinated with the subject. It was more than just worried curiosity caused by Scott’s bite by now; he was genuinely confused by the whole situation. If the aurors hadn’t come on campus, he probably would have let it go. But now that the aurors were taking interest in it, well Stiles was on it as well. Growing up with a police officer for a father had taught him an unhealthy amount of curiosity. 

When it became clear that Scott and Allison were fully tired of the discussion, Stiles moved on to bugging Cora about it every night for a week. She bore most of the rambling rather well, doing her homework and reading books while Stiles paced the common room and threw ideas out in the air. He got yelled at a couple of times by the prefect on patrol, forcing him to sit down on the couch and quietly bug Cora. During those times, she respectfully put her work or her book down and tried to contribute a little to the conversation. Stiles was sure she knew something else about it—after all, she was the one who’d known to check for info from the Wizarding Wars—but if she did, she wasn’t letting on.

“Why teenagers?” she pointed out one night, forcing Stiles to freeze in his tracks and run the question over and over in his mind. “Teenagers are annoying, immature, and selfish; what Alpha would want a pack full of whiny brats?” 

Stiles spent the rest of that night pondering it and when Scott pointed out the bags under his eyes during their Transfiguration class at ten, he shrugged it off. Finally, he decided that teenagers were young and receptive. They could easily be convinced to accept the painful transformation into a werewolf and be taught the ways of the pack hierarchy. He presented this idea to Cora, who shrugged and accepted it easily enough. 

Soon, though, Stiles found himself burdened with homework. Since the students were essentially trapped in the castle indefinitely, the teachers had decided they needed more to do. Evenings were spent in the library with Scott, hunting down Lydia with a question, or finishing last minute assignments with Cora. Scott was thankful for the reprieve from wolf related topics, and since the wound was completely gone—not even a scar remained—he decided nothing had happened. 

Three days before the beginning of the full moon, Hogwarts became a mess. Younger students were just beginning to hear the filtered story of the werewolf attack. It had been modified; a Ravenclaw fifth year who’d been sick recently was framed as the victim of the horribly bloody crime. Stiles sometimes overheard a couple of Slytherins on the Quidditch team loudly whispering gruesome details in front of the younger members, who paled and scurried off. The full moon itself fell on a Wednesday, and there was a group of students demanding that classes be canceled. They weren’t the brightest of the bunch—a group of fourth year Gryffindors known for being kicked out of class regularly—and were just looking for an excuse to cancel classes, but they gained the support of not only impressionable first years, but a group of older Ravneclaws who claimed that they saw the merit in the system.

They argued that if all the students were confined to their House dormitories, with meals sent up for the entire house at appropriate times, then nobody would have the chance to sneak about and get caught by the wolf. The morning came, though, and there was an announcement made that all students missing class without express permission from the hospital wing would be reported to the Headmaster himself. 

Scott almost went to the hospital wing when he woke up. His head was pounding and his stomach was curled in a horrible way. He’d had a nightmare the night before that hadn’t left him much time to sleep in which all of his bones had been broken one by one by some mysterious force. During his first class—Charms—the professor asked him if he was all right, commenting that he looked rather pale. He waved it off as not eating enough breakfast, and ignored Lydia’s eyes on the back of his head. She would no doubt report his odd behavior straight to Stiles. 

After class, Allison tried to encourage him to sneak to the kitchens and bribe some food from the house elves, but he refused, carrying on as if everything were normal. He forced himself to concentrate harder than usual in his next few classes and took a nap in the library during his open period before lunch. When he sat down at the Gryffindor table—Stiles was, unsurprisingly, already downing his fish sandwich—he felt much better, and said as much before anybody could comment or ask.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, swallowed his food, and asked if he wanted to study for their Transfiguration test that night. “Sure,” Scott agreed, though Allison said no. She was tutoring a second year in Charms instead. 

“Boys night in!” Stiles said, high fiving Scott across the table. 

 

“No, no, no!” Stiles said, crossing something out of Scott’s notes. “Dude, where were you when she taught this? You had the incantation completely backwards! You’d be turning a desk into splinter, not a quail!” Scott shrugged with a sheepish smile. “What would you do without me?” Stiles said, shaking his head.

“But did I at least—“ 

“No.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” 

“I don’t need to know! You got it wrong, and that’s final.” Scott groaned and ran his fingers through his hair—which desperately needed to be cut. 

“So what is it I need to know?”

“Here, I’ve written it down in the margins. Practice this and only this and you just might get a passing grade tomorrow.” Scott bit his lip as he read Stiles’s notes on his paper. He wasn’t the best academically—which was why having Lydia and Stiles for friends was so beneficial—and really everything he could possibly do in the wizarding world required some sort of OWL. He’d given up trying to find a muggle profession some time ago when he realized anything worth doing required going to a muggle University, which wouldn’t be possible after a Hogwarts education. So, he had determined to do his best in Hogwarts. Which hadn’t worked out so well. 

Scott repeated the incantation a few times out loud, practicing with Stiles to make sure his pronunciation was correct. Then, he experimented the incantation on the library study desk, earning a sharp reprimand when the quail he’d successfully conjured made a squeaking noise. They were kicked out of the library then, and left to wander the castle corridors until curfew.

“So… That bite bothering you?” Stiles asked as they turned onto a staircase. Of course, just their luck, the thing started to move as soon as they stepped onto it, and they both groaned as they were deposited two floors down from where they’d wanted to go. 

“It’s fine, Stiles. Not even a scratch of it left. I don’t think it was a bite, and if it had been, it wasn’t a wolf bite.” 

“If you say so,” Stiles said, holding his hands up in defense against Scott’s fierce tone. They walked in silence until they reached the Fat Lady and Scott said the password. “But if anything weird happens, feel free to break me out of the dungeons.” Scott gave him a weak smile in response before disappearing into the Gryffindor common room. 

He finished his assignments in peace, huddled in a squishy armchair by the fire. Allison came in from her tutoring session and waved before going into the girls’ dormitory, saying she was tired. There was barely anybody left in the common room and the fire was burning low when Scott’s headache returned in full force. He had the sudden urge to get some fresh air, and he stood hurriedly, leaving his back wide open on the floor. It was past curfew by several hours, so Scott was careful as he swung the portrait out. The Fat Lady had disappeared—probably wandering off to some other portrait to gossip—which made him hesitate. 

If Scott had been Stiles, he’d have cast some sort of spell over himself to make his steps quieter or his body invisible. Instead, he bolted as fast as he could through a few corridors before coming to a secret passage behind a statue that he and Stiles had accidentally found in their second year. It lead to the basement of Honeyduke’s, which would be closed at that time of night. It was perfect, Scott thought, crawling down the tunnel until he was in the cool, dark basement of the candy shop. 

Even though he wasn’t outside, being out of the castle had its relieving effect. Scott breathed a little easier, and rubbed his forehead, trying to get rid of the pounding. He grit his teeth, and suddenly an overwhelming feeling of pain came over him. Doubling over, he tried to stifle any noise he might make. He clenched his hands into fist, feeling his nails sharply bite into his palms. Shocked, he looked down to see that his nails—previously bitten short—were long and pointed, like claws. 

Scott watched in horror as fur started to sprout on the back of his hands and raced underneath his robes. He felt it on the back of his neck and the sides of his face, and suddenly he leaned his head back and let out a roar.


	4. Chapter 3

Scott had woken up curled around an empty carton with the faded letters of Honeyduke’s logo on it. Disoriented, he sat up to find that his robes were torn. He could still wear them, but it was rather obvious that they’d be cut up by something. With a growing sense of unease and panic, Scott stood and looked around for any signs of what might have happened. All he could see were shredded boxes, broken bottles, and the spilled contents of a few new shipments. He heard the bell in the store above jingle, and hurriedly dashed towards the hidden passage, retreating back into the school.

He listened outside of the statue for a few moments before slipping out from behind it. His clothing under his robes was still intact, so he pulled the robes off and casually hung them on his arm, as if he were just too warm. Which, now that he thought of it, he felt as if it were broiling inside the castle. Using the skills he and Stiles had developed over their four years at Hogwarts, Scott slipped through the passages until he reached the Gryffindor common room without being spotted once. It was still relatively early, classes hadn’t started, and when he entered the Common Room, the only people in there were some early risers who were munching on snacks they’d gotten from the kitchen. He caught sight of a clock in the corner of the room and was relieved to see that breakfast would only be starting. 

Ignoring the looks his roommates gave him when he got into the dorm, Scott hurriedly got changed into clean clothes, hiding his torn robes at the bottom of his hamper and brushing his teeth in lieu of his usual routine. He had Quidditch that afternoon anyways, so he would shower then. When he looked in the mirror, he thought he was dreaming. His hair, though messy, was styled, almost. Definitely the best it had looked in years. He didn’t look like a haggard teen who’d slept in the cellar of a candy shop that night, and he most certainly didn’t look like a... 

A you-know-what. He tentatively looked around, then opened his mouth wide and stared at all of his teeth. They looked normal enough. He opened his eyes wide and made a funny face in the mirror, but there seemed to be nothing wrong with him. He looked how he always had, if not better. Frowning, Scott left the bathroom and rushed to the Great Hall, where sure enough Stiles, Lydia, and Allison were already gathered at the Gryffindor table. 

“Morning,” he said, while Stiles eyed him. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Your hair is different, did you put product in it? Did your mom send something?” 

“Why you want some?” Scott said in a teasing voice, grinning as Stiles narrowed his eyes, running his fingers over his short hair. He buzzed it every summer and would let it grow as the year progressed. For the moment, though, it was still growing in. 

“Very funny,” Stiles responded, and Scott was pretty sure he’d heard him mutter ‘git’ under his breath as he turned back to his toast and eggs. Lydia and Allison were having their own conversation, and seemed to be paying no attention to the exchange between their boys. Although they did comment on Scott’s hair before the four parted for classes. Allison and Scott naturally walked together, since they had the same first class. 

“Do we have a quiz today?” Scott asked, noticing that Allison was reviewing her Charms notes. 

“Oh, no, I was just looking at some stuff,” she said, smiling. “You look like you got a good night’s rest. Did you actually go to bed after studying? Usually you’re up half the night before a test.” 

“Trying a new approach,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug. “Maybe if I sleep I’ll retain the information Stiles crammed into my mind.” 

“Or maybe you could come to the study sessions that start before the test is looming over our heads?” she teased, as she usually did. “Don’t worry, nothing will come between you and Stiles’s burgeoning romance.” 

“What?” Scott spluttered, stopping and staring at Allison, who was laughing with a sly smile on her face. 

“I’m joking, Scott. Chill out; I thought your approach this time was to be relaxed?” 

“It wasn’t a funny joke,” he responded. The other students were queued up outside the Charms classroom, waiting to be let in by the professor. “Did you get a note for Divination because of Quidditch practice?” 

“Luckily yes; I handed the professor the note and she said that it had powerful emotions attached to it. All I know is that she agreed to let me miss and that’s all I need to know.” Professor Finstock opened the door then, and they passed into the classroom, taking their desk together and listening as the newest charm they’d be learning was explained. 

Scott was trying to concentrate hard on the work they were doing, since he wanted to avoid thinking about the night before… He doodled on his notes, but he actually was taking notes, which was an improvement on his usual attitude. “The incantation is backwards,” Allison whispered at one point, and Scott crossed out what he had written and rewrote the words properly. At the end of class he felt reasonably productive, unlike his usual dreamy feeling. 

“Oh sorry,” he said, as he bumped shoulders with one of the Hufflepuffs they’d shared the class with on his way out. “Just Transfiguration and then Quidditch,” he told himself and Allison patted his arm.

“You’ll be fine, Scott. You always scrape a good enough grade in the end. It’s not early enough to start worrying yourself about OWLs either, so calm down.” 

They reached the classroom to find most of the Slytherins already seated, including Stiles, who immediately started blabbing on about various things he thought were important enough to mention. “Just remember—“ 

“You’ll be fine,” Allison cut him off as the written tests were handed out to them. The practical part of the test was going to be done after all the written tests had been turned in. Scott stared at his paper for a few moments before beginning to write. He focused all of his energy on writing the test until he found that he had answered the five questions about the application of the spell. He wasn’t the first student to turn in the written part of the exam, but he felt a certain amount of pride when Stiles looked up at him wide-eyed when he stood and started heading towards the front desk. 

In the end, Scott was successful in turning a desk into a quail, and he left class believing that he’d at least passed, if nothing else. Which was better than the poor Slytherin girl who’d turned the desk into a mouse, which had run under the classroom door and had yet to be chased down. Stiles berated Scott, asking him who he was cramming with the night before and what had happened, but eventually abandoning hope of getting an answer since he had another class, while Allison and Scott had Quidditch. 

Only close to games were Quidditch let out of classes, and only certain classes. Things like Divination were perfectly acceptable to miss, but though the practice had officially started an hour earlier, Scott and Allison had been required to attend their Transfiguration class and take their test. The locker rooms were, naturally, empty while they changed into their Quidditch kits. 

The pitch was buzzing; Danny had the first and second years who wanted to try out for the team in years to come doing drills on their brooms on the outskirts of the pitch to teach them basic turning skills. He had his reserve Chasers playing against one set of hoops, and the official Chasers working with the Keepers on the other set. That was where Scott and Allison needed to be, since for the time being there was one Chaser against two Keepers. “McCall! Call in another Chaser, I want you working with the Beaters and the Seeker.” 

“Got it,” Scott responded, catching the first Chaser he saw and directing them to where Allison was scoring two goals in a row. He picked up a Beater’s bat and got to work with the others. They rotated in their drills every thirty to forty minutes, making sure that every key player for the game was ready. They had plenty of reserves in case a Chaser was knocked out by a bludger, or if someone got catastrophically sick, but Danny preferred to have regular players cover for down players. The reserves were mostly first, second, and third years he was training to take over for the seventh years that left. 

Scott loved Quidditch. If he was completely honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to play Quidditch professionally. He wasn’t nearly the best player in the school—that title belonged to Jackson—but he thought he was decent enough to at least join a team after Hogwarts. His favorite thing was to circle the pitch a few times after the last whistle of practice had been blown, when the other players were dismounting their brooms. The wind bit at his face, and sometimes moisture from the air would dampen his clothes, but he loved those feelings. They made him feel as if he was free of everything he ever worried about. 

He took an extra few laps beyond what he usually did, pushing the panic and worry that had consumed him since his incident in Hogsmede down as far as it could go. When he finally returned to the locker rooms and changed, most of the team had rushed off including Allison. No doubt her first stop would be Trelawney to find out if she’d been doomed to die in her absence. 

Scott was lucky, since he had no afternoon class that day and he was free to return to the Common Room and start working on his fresh Charms paper. He knew that he wouldn’t get very far, but he was feeling productive and wanted to at least put down some ideas before he rushed to finish it at the very last minute. 

 

At dinner, there was excited gossip at all the tables: Someone had broken into Honeyduke’s and wrecked their supplies in the basement. When Stiles told him this news, Scott felt his pulse in his head, and he didn’t realize he’d lurched until Stiles pushed him away. “Dude, chill,” Stiles said, his tone concerned. “What is with you?” 

“Sorry, Quidditch was rough,” he said dismissively, putting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. 

“Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?” 

“Probably.” Stiles put his hands around Scott’s arm and lifted him out of his seat, helping him through the Dining Hall. Nobody seemed to pay them any attention, which was just as well. Scott was brimming with paranoia at the moment and didn’t need anything else. When they got to the hospital wing, Stiles deposited him on an empty bed and went to the back office to grab the nurse and explain the situation. 

“Here you go dear,” the nurse said, putting a cup into Scott’s hand. “Whatever has you feeling funny should go away when you drink this.” So he downed it in a gulp, and felt the pounding in his head lessen. “Good, now get yourself back to dinner; you’ll need food and water.” 

“Are you sure that was just Quidditch?” Stiles asked in a hushed tone as they left the hospital wing. “Scott. Scott!” he shouted, pushing him and turning to face Scott. 

“What?” 

“You started acting like this because of all that talk about Honeyduke’s, didn’t you. Because you know what happened. You know what else was last night? The full moon. Scott, please—“ 

“I don’t want to talk about it Stiles!” Scott yelled. Actually, it was more of a snarl. And he watched as Stiles recoiled, his eyes wide. “What? You’re going to yell at me some more about responsibility or some bullshit like that? Are you going to stand here and berate me for looking out for myself?”

“Scott your eyes,” Stiles said quietly. Stiles had gone completely pale and honestly looked as if he’d seen one of the less popular ghosts of Hogwarts swallow a student whole. Scott frowned and looked around. Quickly, Stiles rummaged through his bag until he found a compact mirror—Scott didn’t question why it was there—and held it up. Taking it, Scott looked at his reflection cautiously. His eyes were burning a bright yellow, and as he started to panic, they faded back to brown. 

“Oh my god Stiles I’m a werewolf,” he said quietly. “I snuck down to the Honeyduke’s last night because I wasn’t feeling well and then I changed into a werewolf and destroyed their basement and I’m a danger to everyone.” 

“Calm down, Scott, you just hurt some candy and boxes, you didn’t hurt a person,” he said, taking the mirror back and putting his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “We will figure this out.” 

“Stiles I have to report myself. I have to go to the headmaster and then register with the Ministry as a dark creature. I… I can’t go to school anymore. I’ll have to tell future employers, I—“ 

“Nobody has to know, Scott. You handled it pretty well last night right? Now you have me on your side, and I’m twice the genius you are. We will figure something out and you can still go to school here.” 

“How?” Panic was creeping up through Scott, and he felt it counteracting whatever the nurse had given him to calm him down. “How am I supposed to hide being a werewolf for three years?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Trust me, Scott, we can do this.” 

“You promise?” 

“Yeah, man. You’re my brother and I’ll always be here for you.” 

 

Stiles got Scott back to his common room, snuck down to the kitchen, and convinced a few house elves to deliver food to the Gryffindor dorms since Scott was “too ill to leave bed,” as he told them. The elves rather liked Scott and Stiles, so they were all too eager to help Mr. McCall. Stiles trudged to his own common room once the food was sorted out, his own head swimming. He collapsed on an empty leather couch, surprised that Cora was nowhere to be found. No matter, he thought; he had business to sort out. 

His research had told him a lot about werewolf shifting. He knew that they could build a certain level of control that would allow them to shift during the full moon and not be a danger to themselves or others. Of course, that level of control—without any magical assistance—took years to develop. Until then, there were potions that Stiles could make that would dull the violent urges. We’ll need somewhere that he can go… Somewhere completely secret… 

Stiles ripped open his bag and pulled out a piece of parchment, sketching a rough outline of the castle. He began filling in all the secret passages he knew about that were accessible. There were a few that led out of the castle: the passage to Honeydukes—it wasn’t likely that Scott could go back there every month after what had happened the night before.—and a few passages that just led into the open hair, and… The Shrieking Shack.

It was supposed to be one of the most haunted places and people were forbidden from entering it, particularly because it was a condemned death trap that was literally falling apart at the base. It’s perfect. Any damage done will go unnoticed, strange noises can be attributed to ghosts, and nobody will investigate there for strange things happening. The passage from the Whomping Willow was daunting, though, since it required getting past the whirling branches of the dangerous tree in order to scramble under. In their first year, Scott and Stiles had accidentally gone too far into the willow’s reach and figured if they could get to its base they would be safe. They had then discovered the tunnel and quickly realized where they were when they followed the passage. 

A stunning spell should work nicely, Stiles thought to himself. Find a good, constant spot on the tree that I can hit and the passage should only be a wand wave away. “Perfect,” Stiles breathed, running his fingers over his head. “Absolutely perfect.” 

“What’s perfect?” Jumping nearly a foot in the air, Stiles slid from the couch to the table in front of it and turned himself around to see Cora leaning against the back of the couch with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Jesus, Cora, make some noise when you walk up, won’t you?” 

“Sorry. So what’s perfect?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, crumpling his poorly detailed map of Hogwarts and tossing it into the fireplace. 

“Because that’s not suspicious,” she said, tilting her head. “All right, whatever you’re planning with your friends is clearly top secret and I won’t bother you about it.” 

“Thanks,” he said, nodding. That was the convenient thing about being friends with Cora: she didn’t care about what he did with Scott and the Gang. So long as anything they did was unrelated to her, Cora Hale couldn’t care less. “What’s up with you?” 

“Just got back from another one of those ‘career consultation’ meetings where they try to figure out exactly what you should be doing with your life.” 

“Oh really. And what are you, a professor or a bartender?” 

“No, apparently they think I should try to work for the Ministry. Want me to look into internships for the summer.” Stiles raised his eyebrows as Cora walked around the couch to sit beside him. 

“Really? You in the Ministry?” 

“They said, quote, ‘Your ambition and strong sense of social justice is perfect for what the Ministry is looking for. Fresh ideas and young faces,’ and then some other joke about revolution or something or other. I stopped paying attention, clearly.” 

“You should really think about it. I mean, you’d probably stage a coup and mess everything up, but it might be fun.” Cora shoved Stiles’s shoulder and he winced, reminded of how strong she was. “Just saying.” 

“You know, Stiles, I do have some serious opinions on real matters. Like rights for ‘lesser’ creatures and impoverished wizarding families, and the regulations on registered Dark Creatures.” 

“Okay, okay, so you might make a halfway decent politician. Do you really think you could dress in a suit and be professional all the time, though?” 

“Maybe. It would sure beat the life of a professional Quidditch player, if you’re still thinking about that.” Stiles glared at her, and withheld comment. It was no big secret that for the first three years of his career at Hogwarts Stiles bragged about being a record setting Quidditch player. Now, though, he was pretty sure he’d never make it in the big leagues. 

“Did you hear about the Honeydukes thing?” 

“The basement being destroyed? Yeah, it sounded like a few stupid kids who were bored.” 

“Or maybe it was related to that attack earlier this year,” he said casually, watching as Cora’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, it’s possible.” 

“No, I don’t think so. Wouldn’t make any kind of sense.” 

“If you say so,” he shrugged. “I have some studying to do, and then I’m going to crash. See you tomorrow, Cora.” 

When Stiles was safe in his room and had drawn the curtains around his bed, he rubbed his face with his hands and leaned back on his pillows. That was a little weird. Cora didn’t usually care about half the things Stiles brought up, but the way she had dismissed him had seemed rather… Strained. As if she were hiding something. Had she seen something? Did she know that it was Scott who’d destroyed the Honeyduke’s basement? No, of course she didn’t, and if she did she wouldn’t have been so weird about the topic. She’d be curious and it would be Stiles who acted weird about it. Clearly, he was over thinking something, probably because of his own paranoia and determination to protect Scott at all costs. It was probably best for him to stoping analyzing the situation, lean back, and relax…

 

Scott didn’t go to bed immediately after eating. Instead, he sat by the fire in the common room and stared at the flames. He wondered if he’d be able to get his hands on some floo powder and just get himself out of Hogwarts already. There was no way he and Stiles could really hide this secret from the entire school; it wasn’t going to happen. 

“Rough night?” Scott looked up as Allison lowered herself into the nearest armchair. 

“You could say that,” he said, forcing a small smile. “Thank you for asking, though.”

“Scott, are you okay? Did something happen? You can tell me, whatever it is.” Scott met her eyes and saw that she really meant it: he could tell her. No, I can’t. If there’s one thing I can’t tell Allison, it’s this. He knew that she could probably help Stiles figure out something to do about him, but he couldn’t tell her this. He was dangerous, and he didn’t want Allison of all people to know. 

“Nothing happened. Really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I'm currently working on chapter four, but I can't tell you when exactly it'll be up. Just know that there will be more!


	5. Chapter 4

Stiles backed down for the most part about the werewolf thing. Scott was clearly uncomfortable with regular discussion of the topic, so Stiles conducted late night research a couple of nights that week without his best friend, collecting the information he could find—there was actually a fair amount of it in the library—and getting ready to present it to Scott. On Wednesday, Scott was given a reprieve from formal Quidditch practice but asked Stiles to help him practice on the grounds. Stiles tried ot bring up the topic of his recent lycanthropy only to be viciously attacked by the Quaffle. That night, Stiles underlined the notes he’d taken about werewolf aggression and strength while in their human forms. 

The next time the two were alone without fear of being overheard was on the way back from Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Deaton had been letting Scott help him out after class for the last two years, and usually Stiles left him to his own devices. But that afternoon Stiles stuck around until after the work had been completed. “Here,” Stiles said gruffly as they walked up the weathered stone steps winding back to the castle. “Read this through, at least. It might help.” Scott paused for a second, glancing over the first page of the parchments that Stiles had just shoved into his hands. 

“Stiles,” he started, only for his friend to wave his hand dismissively. 

“You don’t want to talk about it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t think about it. Scott, something happened, and you could be dangerous to others and to yourself. There’s stuff in there about the side effects around the full moon—and also not around it—as well as tips for during the full moon.” 

“There are tips?” Scott asked, his stride matching Stiles’ again. “Like what?” 

“Well, there’s actually some good stuff about meditation. Keeping calm the days leading up to the full moon reduces aggression the day of. Also different foods will release different chemicals in the brains—something stolen from muggle science believe it or not—that will dull the change. Also, there are potions that can be made that will prevent a full transformation, and make you less likely to snap.” 

Scott was silent as they entered the castle, still leafing through the notes Stiles had taken. They reached the staircase that Scott would have to take to his Common Room and Stiles turned towards the dungeons. “Thanks,” Scott said before he walked away. “I know I haven’t been appreciative lately—“ 

“You mean you’ve been an ass. Yeah that’s cool,” Stiles said, shrugging. “You can blame the whole “problem” for a little bit longer. But with all that, it’s not going to be an excuse much longer. Keep that in mind,” he said, before turning back towards the dungeons and leaving Scott. Once in the safety of the Slytherin common room, Stiles settled down onto his usual couch and pulled out a book he’d taken from the library about wolves. There were several, but this one included wizarding and muggle lore, comparing it to what had been proven in the last few decades. There were things about packs—so far unconfirmed officially though there had been multiple movements to institute them—and about the difference in magic that being a werewolf made for some people. 

“What is that?” he heard someone ask, and Stiles jerked up, putting the book in his lap and looking over the back of the couch at Cora, who was standing there, a confused expression on her face. 

“Light reading,” Stiles responded nonchalantly, moving to start reading again, but Cora reached across the back of the couch and snatched the book up. “Hey!” Stiles protested while she inspected the cover. 

“What’s with the sudden interest in werewolves?” she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes. Stiles gulped and rubbed the back of his head, trying to come up with a response. 

“I don’t know, maybe I’m considering finding a werewolf and asking for a little bite?” When he saw the near murderous expression on Cora’s face he held up his hands in defeat. “Kidding! It got mentioned for a moment in Defense Against the Dark Arts and I just got a little curious. No harm in reading up on potentially dangerous magical creatures, right?” Cora pursed her lips, but seemed to buy the excuse as she returned the book to Stiles and settled herself down on the other end of the couch. Stiles marked his place in the book with a scrap piece of parchment that he’d been taking notes on and stuck it haphazardly in his back, retrieving some notes for History of Magic to look over. He didn’t really need to, but he didn’t want to continue reading the book if Cora was there. 

They sat there in silence for an hour or so, Cora scratching out a paper for one of her classes and Stiles reading over his notes, occasionally checking the time on the large grandfather clock standing against the wall of the common room. “Got a hot date?” Cora asked finally, and Stiles shook his head, running his hand over his hair. “You keep checking the clock like you have somewhere to be,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, I’m meeting Scott and Allison to study in a bit,” he lied easily, before sighing and pushing his notes into his back. “I should probably go now. But I’ll see you at dinner or something,” he said brightly, forcing himself to smile as he dodged out of the common room. Making his way to the library, Stiles nodded to the librarian before heading to the back of the room. There were cushier chairs back there for the student so dedicated to silence that they found themselves hidden behind actual stacks of books as opposed to being scattered amongst the shelves. Sinking into an armchair that had once belonged to the Gryffindor common room, Stiles retrieved the book he’d been devouring. He didn’t stop reading until he was accosted by his own stomach, and was forced to go to dinner. 

The first thing he did upon entering the Great Hall was survey the tables at either end of the room. At the Slytherin table, Cora had yet to arrive, but Jackson and the rest of the Quidditch Team were assembled on one end of the table and an undesirable group of first years at the other end. The Gryffindor table was devoid of Scott and Allison, though, so Stiles found himself sucking it up and settling somewhere in the awkward middle of his own house table. 

He was almost done with his first plate when Cora sat beside him. “I despise Professor Finstock,” she announced, grabbing a roll and dropping it on her plate with a dull thunk. “He assigned us a paper on the Goblin Wars and only tonight do I find out that it’s going to be accompanied by a test. Do you know that there used to be a ghost teaching History of Magic? And that he was boring as all hell, but never assigned tests?” 

“I have heard that rumor, yes,” Stiles said around a mouthful of potatoes. “They say his ghost just got tired of teaching and is in some forgotten corner of the castle, snoozing.” 

“They could’ve replaced him with another old ghost,” Cora said stubbornly. “And to make matters worse, he’s the head of Hufflepuff and hates everyone else.” 

“I like to think he’s got a soft spot for me. He reffed for Quidditch that one game where the Ravenclaw beater hit my broom with the bat and called in favor of me.” 

“You’re just lucky it wasn’t Hufflepuff you were up against,” she said, shaking her head. Lydia walked past the table then, and Stiles greeted her, though she didn’t appear to hear. Soon she was sitting beside Jackson, and they were back to acting like a couple. Stiles frowned and looked back down at his food, pushing his potatoes around the edge of his plate and onto his green beans. “Get over it,” Cora muttered and Stiles shrugged. They’d had this conversation many times: Lydia was out of his league, she and Jackson came from old pureblood families and were bound to be together forever, she was the smartest witch at the school, and if he even thought about it Jackson would probably strangle him. 

Once Stiles was convinced that the food wasn’t going to get any more appetizing, he muttered a goodbye to Cora and left the table, wandering out of the Great Hall. He wasn’t quite ready to head back to the common room, but he also didn’t want to return to the library for the moment, so he instead made his way outside to the Quidditch pitch. There were no formal practices that time of night for any of the teams, but there were a few pairs of people running drills. He saw the beaters from his own team enthusiastically batting a bludger back and forth between themselves, while a seventh year Gryffindor flew around the pitch with a first year Ravenclaw, getting them used to the broomstick. 

Stiles went into the changing room and dropped off his bag, putting on some loose practice clothes and retrieving one of the school issued brooms from the shed, heading out onto the pitch. He went a couple of laps around, keeping far enough up that he didn’t fear the bludger flying at him but low enough that he didn’t interfere with anyone else’s flying. He wasn’t looking to do anything fancy, he was just hoping to blow off some steam. Even though Scott had taken the notes, and even though there were dozens upon dozens of cases of werewolves living a relatively normal life in society, Stiles was still worried. What would happen during the summers? Of course, they lived close enough that Stiles saw Scott almost every single day during the summer, but what would happen if his dad announced an impromptu camping trip the weekend of a full moon? 

The beaters disappeared eventually, and then the others flying around the pitch did, too. Stiles wasn’t worried about his assignments, so he kept flying around trying to think of ways to force Scott to realize how important it was that they figure things out… 

 

“Scott? Hello, Scott?” Jerking his head up, Scott turned in his seat to see Allison leaning against the back of the armchair he’d been occupying. 

“Oh hey,” he said, smiling. 

“Hey? You were completely zoned out,” she said, moving around to drop her bag on the coffee table and sit down beside it. “I called your name at least six times.” 

“Sorry, just studying some of Stiles’ notes,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He folded up the notes and pushed them to the bottom of his bag. “What’s up?” 

“I don’t know, Scott, why don’t you tell me.” 

“I have no idea what—“ Allison sighed and looked up at him. 

“Scott, you’ve been acting weird. Is everything all right?” Scott frowned and nodded. “Okay, if you say so. You know that if anything is going on you can always tell me, right? Especially if it’s something going on with Stiles.” 

“There’s nothing going on. I’ve just been tired and a little stressed. This year’s harder than usual, and with O.W.L.s coming up at the end of next term, I’m worried about my scores,” Scott lied, though it was at least partially the truth.” 

Allison sighed and put a hand on Scott’s knee. “Look, I know with Stiles and Lydia around it sometimes feels like good isn’t good enough, but Scott you’re a good student. Really, you are. You’ve never once failed a test, and let’s face it you’re better than at least half our year. Remember back in third year when I tried to take too many extra classes? I couldn’t handle it, and I had to drop one. You know why I did that? Because Lydia Martin, genius of all geniuses, can handle that many classes. She can keep up with all the work, all the tests, and still have time to snog Jackson under the staircases.” 

“Ew,” Scott said, wrinkling his nose at the idea.

“Yes, ew, but besides the point. Look, if you’re really worried about your work, then let’s study together without them. Stiles may be a brilliant researcher, but he’s also super distracting, and you know it. Lydia, too. She just sits and doodles when she’s finished studying and sighs every five minutes until you’re done. They’re both crushers of the self esteem, and distractions of the mind.” 

“What would I do without you?” Scott said, smiling back at Allison. The armchair across from his was vacated within a few minutes, so Allison sat down, pulling it closer to the coffee table. They worked on their assignments for an hour or so, until the clock above the fireplace reminded them that it was almost midnight, and Scott found himself unable to read the words on the page. 

Once back in his room, though, Scott found that he couldn’t sleep. He tried, but found himself fishing Stiles’ notes out of the bottom of his backpack again and reading it by wandlight. Some of the folklore made Scott cringe, but then he would come across some notes underneath a story about a werewolf being beheaded, and he’d realized that Stiles really was trying to help. There were several recipes for potions that lessened the effects of the full moon. There was information on the treatment of bites, and the side effects that could occur besides transformation. That explains why I can’t stand overcooked bacon anymore, Scott thought after reading over a few of those traits that had been listed out in the margins of the notes. 

Scott woke up in the morning with the notes still under his pillow. 

 

“Attention students!” Scott looked up from his eggs and watched as the Headmaster reached the front of the Great Hall. 

“What do you think this is about?” Stiles asked from across the table. 

“No idea,” Scot responded, before turning his attention back to the front. 

“There’s been a change made to the Quidditch schedule. This weekends game will no longer be a match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, due to an unfortunate lack of Chasers on the Ravenclaw team. Instead, Gryffindor has been moved up in the cycle and will play Hufflepuff.” 

“Shit,” Scott said, turning back towards Stiles. “That means we’re going to have twice as many practices in the next two days to get ready.” 

“What happened to the Chasers?” Allison asked Lydia who shrugged. 

“I heard there was a bug and once it hit one, it took out all their regulars. They only have two substitutes, so they can’t play.” 

“They couldn’t borrow a Chaser from anywhere?” Scott asked, sparing a glance for his breakfast before deciding he wouldn’t be finishing it. 

“Hufflepuff’s probably the only team that would volunteer a Chaser, and it wouldn’t be fair,” Allison supplied. 

“Why are you stressing out about this?” Stiles asked. 

“Just… Lot’s of stuff piling up,” Scott said, collecting his bag and standing up. “Ready to go to class?” 

“Sure,” Allison said, sharing a look with Lydia and putting her fork down. “Eager to get to Charms today.” 

“I have a question for the professor,” he responded. They walked quietly through the somewhat crowded halls. 

“Do you really have a question, or are you still stressing out about the Quidditch thing?” Allison asked. 

“You read me like a book,” he responded, frowning and pausing outside the classroom. “Do you think we’ll be pulled from Divination again today?” They were stopped outside their Divination classroom by their Quidditch captain, who had excuses in hand for them. 

 

Stiles was on his way back from dinner—where conversation had been lacking due to Scott and Allison’s rush to return to a second Quidditch practice before Hufflepuff got the pitch for the night—when he heard the distinct pitch of Cora’s voice. He paused when he heard that she was arguing with someone. 

“I don’t care who did it!” Cora insisted, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “Our sister is dead Derek, does it matter why?” 

“Yes, it does. Someone wanted her dead. This was no accident and you know it. The same person who bit… That kid, was probably who killed her. And with Peter in St. Mungo’s, it’s just you and me left. Eventually, they’re going to come after us.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

“Cora…” 

“No really! What, do you think someone had a grudge against the… The family? Because if it’s the hunters who burned the house—“ 

“Shh!” There was silence for a few minutes while Stiles held his breath, pressed against the wall around the corner. “I’m not discussing this with you anymore. Just watch your back, and show up to the funeral. I’m going to need help burying Laura.” 

Stiles heard Derek’s footsteps and quickly scurried to look natural as the older Hale came around the corner. He could feel Derek’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up from his back, fishing around for something that wasn’t there. Once Derek had left the dungeons, Stiles rushed around the corner, but Cora had already left, probably for the common room. So Stiles explored the dungeons until he found an unlocked, empty classroom. He closed the door, dropped his stuff, and started pacing. 

Laura had been killed, and Derek was afraid that whoever had done it would come after him and Cora. But the authorities had called the death a werewolf attack, which occurred right before Scott was attacked, and now he was a werewolf. So a werewolf attacked and killed Laura Hale, then bit and changed Scott. “He said something about a kid being bitten…” Which mean that Derek and Cora knew that Scott had been bitten, but weren’t doing anything about it. And their uncle was in St. Mungo’s, which meant he’d probably been attacked and they were keeping it under wraps. 

What were they hiding? What could their family possibly be involved in? Stiles knew that immediately after the Wizarding Wars of the 90’s there had been a lot of families attacked based on their affiliations during the war, but why would attacks like that be happening again? Maybe the Hale family had been anti-werewolf rights? That would explain why one had been attacked by a wolf. But Cora said hunters burned their house… 

“The Hales are a pack!” Stiles said suddenly, freezing in his path. “They’re wolves! And wolf hunters burned their house, and now Derek thinks they’re back to finish the job because Laura’s dead and Peter is injured. But someone bit Scott, so maybe it’s wolves attacking? A rival pack?” Stiles began pacing some more, debating whether or not to try and investigate the matter with Cora. If he pushed her too far, he might have to admit that he’d overheard her conversation with Derek. But she’d been acting rather aloof lately, and Stiles suddenly remembered her interrogating him about his readings about wolves. 

I can’t let them know that I’m onto them… People have died! People have been hurt! I could be next! Stiles was suddenly very nervous about being all alone in the dungeons, and quickly he grabbed his bag once more and hurried down the hallway. He took the steps two at a time to get to the library, and was incredibly relieved to find Allison and Scott sitting at a table in the back, quietly going over the notes from a class they’d missed due to Quidditch practice. They looked sweaty and flushed, which meant they must have just left the Quidditch pitch. 

 

“Hey guys, how did practice go? Scott can I talk to you for a moment in private?” Stiles said rapid fire, standing beside Scott’s chair and tapping his foot impatiently to get his point across. 

“Um, practice was rough, and we’re a little busy right now, Stiles, so—“ 

“Scott it’s about that thing you were telling me about. The thing,” Stiles repeated, putting heavy emphasis on the word. “It’s urgent!” he said, getting ‘shh’ed by a nearby student for being too loud. 

“Okay,” Scott said hesitantly. “Give me a second,” he said to Allison, and Stiles pulled him over behind a few shelves, far enough away that he was sure Allison wouldn’t overhear. “What’s going on?” 

“Derek Hale is a werewolf.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” 

“No, I’m not! I overheard him talking to Cora earlier and he said that their uncle is in St. Mungo’s, someone killed Laura, and that it might be someone who was related to their house burning down. He mentioned you, too, and said that there’s somebody after the Hales, so I though they must be a wolf pack, and maybe it’s a rival wolf pack, and you might be in danger.” 

“You need to take a deep breath,” Scott said while Stiles gasped for air after pushing through his explanation. “And also you need something to straighten you out, because everything you just said is insane.” 

“No, it’s not! And I’ll prove it!” Stiles fished through his bag until he found a specific quill—one that Cora had borrowed the week before for a few days. “Smell it.” 

“What? Stiles—“ 

“Just smell it, Scott.” So Scott obeyed, taking the quill and holding it up to his nose. Then his eyes widened and he looked confused. “Does it smell like something?” 

“It smells like a dog, or a wolf. It’s hard to explain but—“ 

“It smells like Cora, because she had it. And Cora is a werewolf, too. See? It’s all starting to make sense!” 

“But what does this mean?” Scott asked, handing the quill back. 

“I have no idea.” 

 

Allison received regular letters from home. So it didn’t come as a surprise to see her owl, Toulouse, flying down from the hoard of winged mail carriers that morning. He extended his leg with a letter tied to it, and Allison untied it, feeding him a strip of bacon before he flew away. Lydia was chattering away about some party the Head Boy of Ravenclaw was setting up, so Allison decided to go ahead and read the letter. 

It was written by her dad—she recognized the slanted handwriting as opposed to her mother’s curly script—and was a basic run through of their updates. He and her mother were going to be in Hogsmeade for a few weeks on auror business, and her aunt Kate was going to be staying with them, as well. Aunt Kate was muggleborn, but naturally knew all about the wizarding world since she was her father’s sister. Allison’s dad mentioned that during her next Hogsmeade trip she should stop by the inn they were staying in and say hello, as well as show her aunt around the town, since her parents would be too busy with work. 

Folding the letter back up, Allison tucked it into her school bag and returned to Lydia’s conversation, commenting at all the right times. She knew that she’d be at the party with Lydia, so she didn’t particularly care about knowing all the details beforehand. Allison’s eyes wander towards the entrance to the Great Hall and found that Scott and Stiles were wandering in. Scott looked far more awake than he usually did, while Stiles still looked like a shambling inferi with dark bags under his eyes. They veered towards the Slytherin table and sat together beside Cora Hale, who shifted uncomfortably. Stiles had tried on multiple occasion to force them to hang out with Cora, but lack of interest ultimately resulted in separate spheres. 

Which naturally forced the question: why was Scott sitting at the Slytherin table that morning? Probably to discuss something with Stiles that he doesn’t want Lydia’s opinion on, Allison thought to herself, but it still bothered her. She was by no means jealous of the friendship Stiles and Scott had—they had lived beside each other for fifteen years after all—but she always wondered where she stood in comparison. Lydia had reassured her many times that Scott had been panting over her since their first year, but why hadn’t he done anything about it? Countless times, Allison had provided an opportunity for Scott to say something, perhaps ask her on a date, but nothing had ever happened. 

Lydia’s advice on the matter was, naturally, to move on; during almost any party, before she inevitably disappeared with Jackson, Lydia would try to force Allison to talk to some attractive someone-or-other. “Come on, we have double Potions and I want to get a good table so we don’t have to split up,” Lydia said, standing from the table and tossing her red curls over the shoulder of her robe. Dutifully, Allison stood and picked up her bag, following Lydia down to the dungeons. Sure enough, they were early enough to nab a table together. 

When Scott arrived, breathless, only a minute before the class began, Allison sent him a small, sad smile before nodding towards a quiet Ravenclaw girl, who always sat in the back with her rumpled robes and messy blonde hair. With Lydia as her partner, Allison was saved from the scrutiny of the professor. All she had to do was follow Lydia’s instructions to the letter, and their potion would be beyond excellent. Towards the end of class, while their potion simmered in its cauldron, Lydia slipped to the back of the room at Allison’s request, and oversaw the remaining steps for Scott and the Ravenclaw girl. 

“Thank you,” Scott said to her as they left the classroom. “I think it was an off day for Erica.” 

“Thank Lydia,” she said, really smiling for the first time that day. She had started counting her smiles each day, and trying to remember what made her smile. Nine times out of ten it was because of Scott. “So my aunt is going to be in Hogsmeade this weekend. Want to help me show her around town?” 

“Me?” Scott said, incredulously, and Allison nodded. “I’m not really good with parents.” 

“She’s not a parent,” Allison said, laughing a little. “And she’s really cool, I promise. Muggle-born, non magical; she has more in common with you than she does me, and I thought it might make her more comfortable to have someone who gets her, especially in Zonko’s.” 

“All right,” he said hesitantly. “I’ll tell Stiles that he’s on his own, unless you want him to come, too.” 

“I mean… I don’t want him to be on his own,” Allison hedged, but then Scott shook his head. 

“He’ll find something to do. Maybe he’ll follow Lydia around and bug her.” Allison grinned, and thanked Scott, before the split. Allison had Arithmancy, while Scott had Care of Magical Creatures. 

 

“No, no, no, that skirt looks like it belongs on an old spinster,” Lydia said from Allison’s bed. There were clothes from her trunk scattered over the floor and bed in Allison’s room, while they tried to figure out what she would wear to introduce Scott to her aunt Kate. Though she’d played it down, she hoped that her aunt would like Scott, and also this would be the first time they would be going to Hogsmeade without Lydia or Stiles in tow. 

“Well I don’t really have another one except for the white skirt I showed you earlier, and you didn’t like that one, either.” 

“It’s too cold for white,” Lydia said with a wave of her hand. “Fine, wear those dark jeans you had on before, and then we’ll find a top.” Allison groaned, but obeyed Lydia’s order, and emerged in the t-shirt she’d slept in and her jeans. “What about that purple one, with quarter sleeves?” 

“I wore it last weekend and haven’t gotten a chance to have it washed,” Allison said, and Lydia groaned, thumping her head back against Allison’s pillows. 

“Do you have anything else purple? It’s a nice contrast with your hair.” Allison rummaged through her trunk and emerged with a light purple long-sleeved shirt. “That’ll work,” Lydia said. An hour later, Allison was dressed, her hair curled, and her makeup applied by Lydia—despite protests that she knew how to do her own eyeshadow. 

“There,” Lydia said, pursing her lips and arranging Allison’s hair one last time. “Perfect.” 

“Thanks,” Allison responded. She would probably have been more grateful had it not taken nearly two hours for Lydia to be satisfied. She had tried multiple times to explain to Lydia that it wasn’t a date—or anything close to a date—but she hadn’t listened. Luckily, though, once they got down to the Gryffindor common room, Lydia left without another word, allowing Allison to settle down into an armchair and wait for Scott to meet her. It wasn’t long before he came hurrying down the stairs from the boy’s dormitory, already apologizing for being late. Allison waved it off, and they moved with the crowd of Hogwarts students preparing to leave for Hogsmeade. 

“We’re going to meet Kate at the inn they’re staying at, and then just kind of show her the sites of Hogsmeade.” 

“Sounds like we’ll be seeing a lot of the third years,” Scott responded jokingly, and Allison nodded. 

“Probably. But at least she’ll see a wizarding village.” They chatted amiably on their way down to Hogsmeade, until they reached the inn. Kate was sitting outside on a bench, fiddling with something in her bag that she immediately put away when she heard Allison and Scott approaching. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite niece!” she exclaimed, standing and reaching out for Allison. They shared a tight hug, before Kate held her back at arm’s length. “My goodness you’re so tall, and gorgeous! Look at this hair! I have to know how you get it so perfect without electricity! I mean really, it’s so inconvenient. Look at mine,” the woman said, gesturing to her high ponytail. 

“You look fine,” Allison reassured her. “Aunt Kate, this is my friend Scott. Scott, this is my aunt Kate. Scott volunteered to help me show you around town.” 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you young man,” Kate said, holding out her hand for Scott to shake. “Strong grip,” she complimented and Allison watched Scott’s cheeks turn a little red. 

“All right, well first of all, how about we go to Zonko’s?” At first, Kate spoke almost exclusively to Allison, asking her about classes at Hogwarts, her friends, and—naturally—boys. When that topic came up, Allison tried not to make any kind of indication towards Scott, but something told her that Kate knew. After that, Kate began to pull Scott into conversation, asking him many of the same questions that she’d asked Allison. But she was more interrogatory towards him, pushing for more detailed answers if he was too general. 

Allison tried to distract Kate, but in the end, Scott said he was supposed to be meeting Stiles somewhere and bailed. “Awfully strange boy, that one,” Kate said once he’d left. “I want to hear what you see in him.” 

 

“Thank god you’re actually here,” Scott said, sliding into the booth beside Stiles. Cora was sitting across the table, and she sighed, reaching for her Butterbeer. “Allison’s aunt has more questions than the O.W.L.s do.” 

“That bad, huh?” Stiles asked. 

“Yes, that bad.” Cora stiffened with her eyes focused above Scott’s shoulder, so he and Stiles turned around. 

“Cora,” Derek Hale said, nodding curtly. Scott had never seen him outside of Hogwarts, so the rough, grungy look of his leather jacket and ripped jeans took him by surprise. Derek was the only Hale to have been a Gryffindor, and Scott vaguely remembered him being a star student, as well as a Quidditch player. 

“Derek,” Cora responded, raising her eyebrows. “Did you want something?” 

“Just to say hello. I’m staying next door,” he added. “If you need anything, come by, all right?” 

“Sure,” she responded in a dismissive way. Derek nodded and turned, headed towards the bar. 

“I think I’m gonna grab a Butterbeer,” Scott said, getting up. He caught the attention of the owner, who signaled to him that he’d get the Butterbeer in a minute. 

“Scott McCall. Fifth year. Gryffindor.” Startled, Scott looked to his left to find Derek sitting on a stool beside him. He met Derek’s eyes and found them to be dark and intimidating. 

“Yes, that’s me,” he responded tentatively. 

“That’s not all you are,” he said in a knowing tone. Scott frowned and grabbed the handle of his Butterbeer, moving to leave. But he was stopped when Derek caught his arm. “That friend of yours is awfully smart, I hear. Too smart for his own good. You’ve got secrets, and so do my sister and I. You should tell him that.” 

Scott opened his mouth to say something back, but decided against it when he saw the extremely serious and extremely frightening look on Derek’s face. “I-I will,” he said, and Derek let go of his arm, nodding. Scott hurried back to the booth and slid in. 

“Dude, is something wrong?” Stiles asked, and Scott shook his head. “Good, because you look like you just saw Jackson with—“ 

“I’ll look better if you don’t finish that sentence,” Scott said. 

“I agree, nobody wants to hear the end of that,” Cora chimed in. Stiles appeared to pout for a moment, but was quick to move on. For the most part, Stiles carried conversation with Cora, while Scott mulled over what Derek had said to him at the bar. He knows. He knows that I’m a werewolf… But how? Scott reflected on the fact that Derek had included Cora in his secrets, and that Stiles was sure the Hales were wolves, as well. Could it be true?


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so sorry this hasn't been updated in so long but here's fingers crossed that I'll actually pay attention to this from now on! The chapter might be a little rough because it was halfway done and then I came back to it after a long time and I'd kinda forgotten what direction I was taking...

“Okay what the hell happened with Derek Hale in Hogsmeade man, because Cora is acting weider than normal,” Stiles said quickly, plopping down on the grass beside Scott and Allison, who were working on some essay. Allison looked up with an eyebrow raised. 

“You guys saw Derek Hale in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, he’s staying there apparently,” Stiles said, fiddling with a quill in his hands. “And I figured it was something about whatever is going on with their family and the ‘dropping like flies’ thing, but now Cora won’t hang out with me and whenever she sees Scott she like acts all weird, and I think that’s why she doesn’t hang out with me anymore, so what the hell man?” It wasn’t that big of a deal, really, so Stiles didn’t get why Scott seemed to shrink in on himself. 

Scott had been really weird after talking to Derek, but it had gone away by the end of the day and Stiles had thought that maybe it was just that Derek Hale was, well, super intimidating. But leather jackets and ridiculous eyebrows aside, Scott was now acting prickly again and Stiles prodded his side with the quill in his hands. 

“Sorry man, I don’t know why Cora’s being weird. Maybe she has a crush on you,” Scott said, rushing through the last sentence and giving Stiles a cheeky grin. Stiles did not appreciate the cheeky grin, and he glared at his best friend while Allison snickered behind her hand. 

“Please. As much as I’d like to think that all the ladies want a piece of this,” Stiles said, gesturing to himself with a wiggle of his eyebrows that kept Scott’s smile still curving up, “Cora is both out of my league, and my friend, so no. That’s not it.” 

“Then I can’t help you,” Scott said, and though he sounded joking at first, there was an edge that made Stiles a little angry. 

“Is this about the thing,” Stiles asked in a stage whisper, and he swore he saw Scott’s eyes flash yellow for a second, before he shook his head vigorously, with a tilt towards Allison. But by now, she knew better than to question them, so she was politely pretending to be absorbed in her essay. 

“If it were, and I’m not saying it is, then it would be unimportant,” Scott hissed. 

“But if it’s about the thing, is it that I was right?” Stiles said excitedly. “Am I right and that’s why—“ he paused. Cora wasn’t speaking to him, Derek confronted Scott. If Scott had been able to smell that Cora was a werewolf… Then they must’ve figured out that Scott was a werewolf… But wasn’t that a good thing? Scott could ask Cora and Derek all his questions, they could help him out, it could be fun! Well, if the always-serious Derek Hale even knew how to have fun. 

“Stiles, maybe you should stop trying to figure things out that don’t need you meddling in them and messing them up,” Scott said, and Stiles looked up in surprise when he realized that not only did Scott actually sound angry, but he had packed up all of his things and was now stalking up the hill back to the castle. Allison looked as surprised as he did, and she shrugged, getting up as well. 

“He’s been in a bit of a mood today,” she said apologetically. “I’m sure he’ll have cooled off by dinner.” 

 

There was probably a better way for Scott to convince Stiles to stop being so nosey without getting upset and yelling at him, but well, that would involve Scott not feeling like he was going to rip apart from anger any moment. When working on his homework proved to be only more frustrating, Scott decided it was time to take a nice walk around grounds. He really just didn’t want to run into anybody he knew—especially not Stiles, because he wasn’t ready to explain Derek’s threat. 

With his head down and his hands deep in his pockets, Scott found himself straying further and further away from the castle, down the sloping hill towards the lake and the forest and the grounds keeper’s hut. Deaton was nice enough, and apparently continued the tradition of the previous keeper’s inclination towards magical creatures. Usually, Deaton was nursing something back to health that would then find its home either in the Forbidden Forest or somewhere else it belonged. Since Care of Magical Creatures was just about the only class Scott never had to worry about, he’d grown fond of Deaton. 

It seemed like a good idea to take his mind off of things by visiting the cabin, so that’s where Scott headed. He knocked before reaching for the handle and walking right in, which was his custom. “Deaton?” he called out, looking into the poorly lit hut. There was a little cooing noise from the fireplace, and Scott approached to find a fluffy thing curled up there. It had a little nub for a tail and oversized paws, and it cringed a little as Scott approached, even as Scott tried to hold his hand out to touch it. 

“Huh,” Deaton said, and Scott stood. Deaton was standing there, hands on his hips, watching the creature by the fireplace. “I can’t imagine why she’s scared of you. Anyways, what can I do for you Scott?” 

“It’s just been a rough day,” Scott said with a shrug. “I was wondering if you had any work you needed done? I’m free for the night.” 

“Well, I do have some things that need to be organized around here, if you don’t mind.” Deaton motioned Scott towards a huge cabinet full of herbs plant pieces in glass and clay jars that Scott was fairly sure had always been a huge mess. He started pulling the jars down from the shelves, filling the surrounding counter with them as he did so. 

“How do you want them organized?” 

“Look at the labels and put them in alphabetical order if you don’t mind,” Deaton responded. Scott looked over his shoulder to see him kneeling beside the creature by the fireplace, checking it over. Scott finished pulling all the jars out of the cabinet, but found that reading their labels was much harder than he’d thought it would be. Deaton’s handwriting was spindly and blurred together, with his G’s looking like Q’s and his A’s looking like O’s. Meanwhile, a low hissing noise had started in the cage hanging above the cabinet, and Scott kept trying to get a glance of whatever it was inside it. 

“There’s a pixie in there,” Deaton explained after catching Scott’s sixth attempt at peering into the cage. “Should be sedated, though, so I’m sorry if the hissing is bothering you.” When Scott looked over at Deaton, he saw that the grounds keeper’s brow was furrowed, arms crossed, and he looked either confused or worried. Looking at Scott, Deaton’s expression didn’t change, so he went back to organizing the cabinet. “What’s got you worried Scott? You seem rather tense.” 

“Just school stuff, you know. The usual.” Deaton came over to the cabinet and put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. 

“This doesn’t seem like just school getting to you. You know, Scott, you can tell me if something bothers you, but I won’t pressure you. I’m sure you’ll deal with this in your own way when you need to.” 

Deaton didn’t say anything else about it for the rest of the evening, even as Scott finished up the cabinet and started doing other tasks for him. They casually discussed the weather, classes, and the tasks that Scott was working on, but other than that there was peaceful silence, which was good for Scott. It gave him time to breathe and think away from Stiles. And Allison. He hated to admit it, but this werewolf thing was a big deal. This was something that had already changed his life, and it had barely been a couple of months. Which reminded Scott that the full moon was the next evening, and he would have to figure something out for that. He doubted breaking into Honeydukes again would suffice. 

He needed to talk to Stiles about this without dealing with the whole “the Hales are also werewolves” issue. Of course, since Derek had talked to him in Hogsmeade, Scott was pretty sure that Stiles was right about that, but he didn’t want anybody getting hurt. If the Hales were keeping their wolf identities secret it was probably for a reason. Werewolf rights had barely improved since the first werewolf activists had started speaking out in the 90s, and it was still a controversial issue of whether or not werewolves should be allowed to attend Hogwarts, work in the Ministry, or even be admitted to St. Mungo’s. If the Hales wanted to keep that a secret, then Scott could understand why and respect that decision. Stiles, on the other hand, would probably make a huge deal out of it. 

Scott also couldn’t tell Allison about being a werewolf. What would she think of him? She’d probably be scared, and Scott couldn’t stand that. Not to mention, what if he hurt her? What if she knew, tried to help him during the full moon, and he really hurt her? There were all kinds of things that could go wrong, and spending more time with Allison like he had lately was helping him relax about becoming a werewolf, but was also distracting him from the very real dangers that he could pose for her. He was dangerous, and everyone around him could be in danger if he lost control. 

Quidditch was easier now. He had an easier time concentrating in class because he could hear the professors over the constant chattering of his classmates. But none of that was worth it if he couldn’t control himself during the full moon. Or if he was found out. Or if the Hales threatened Stiles again because Stiles was threatening to blow their cover. Yeah, Stiles was mostly just trying to help Scott, but he was sticking his nose into an awful lot of other people’s business… 

Deaton sent Scott away when they realized that dinner was almost over, and Scott made it to the Great Hall with just enough time to sit down with a couple of other players from the Gryffindor team and scarf down a meal. Stiles and Allison were nowhere to be seen, and Scott sighed when he thought about the apology Stiles would probably demand. However, he had an early morning Quidditch practice before class the next day, and he probably wouldn’t see Stiles until their shared Potions that afternoon. Enough time to figure out what he would say, and how he would ask about finding a place for the night. At least, he hoped it would be enough time. 

 

“Allison, honey, he is never going to make the first move,” Lydia said from across the table as she subtly transferred some of Jackson’s food to her own plate and replaced it with vegetables while he was distracted by the argument he was having with the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, Danny. 

“Maybe he just needs another little push?” she asked, putting her fork down and crossing her arms. “I thought Hogsmeade was a step in the right direction…” 

“A baby step towards the beginning of a bridge spanning a chasm,” Lydia responded, tilting her head. “Don’t be afraid to go charging in. You are a beautiful young woman, and he’s lucky to be friends with you. Honey, please eat,” she said, putting a hand on Jackson’s arm. He responded by rolling his eyes, but obeying her request. “You can make the first move.” 

“I know I can I just don’t want to.” Allison cast her eyes over to the Gryffindor table, where Scott was sitting alone, scowling down at his breakfast. He’d gotten up late, so Allison had opted for sitting with Lydia and the Ravenclaws that morning. Which is how they got onto the topic of Scott’s inability to ask her on a real date, and that his meeting her aunt Kate absolutely did not count as anything (Lydia’s insistence, not Allison’s). “I have to get to class,” Allison finally said after Lydia got distracted by Jackson’s attention—now that his argument was over—and only got a sympathetic smile in response. 

“Scott?” she asked tentatively when she reached him at the Gryffindor table. “Ready to go to class?” He took a moment to look up at her, blinking wearily. 

“Yeah, sorry. Quidditch practice took it out of me,” he said groggily, standing up and tilting his head until his neck cracked. “Let’s um get going.” They walked in silence to class, weaving through other Hogwarts students. Allison glanced over at him a couple of times, but every time he looked distant and distracted. He was the same during class, and she began to wonder if he wasn’t feeling well. After all, Scott wasn’t usually this… grim. They didn’t have their next class together—Scott had Care of Magical Creatures and Allison had Runes—and even though she tried to ask how he was feeling after class, she never really got a response. 

Naturally, Lydia knew something was wrong during their class, and she quickly cast a muffliato spell before turning her head away from the droning professor and putting her chin on her hand. “What is it now? You know, if you’re not smiling, you’re never going to charm the robes off that boy.” 

“I don’t think anybody could charm his robes off today. He’s being so distant, I wonder if he’s upset…” 

“If he is, he’s not upset with you so I don’t see why you’re so concerned.” Lydia pursed her lips. “Nevermind. I keep forgetting that you’re completely besotted with this boy and that you can’t think straight if he’s not. What do you think is wrong with him since I assume you’ll tell me anyways?” Allison smiled at her. Lydia liked to sound disinterested and pretend that everything was boring to her, but she really did care. 

“He seemed tense with Stiles yesterday. Do you think they’re fighting?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised. The house difference is hardly the only issue those two have encountered in their frankly sometimes disturbing friendship. If it is about Stiles, though, you know there’s nothing you can do right?” 

Allison sighed and looked up at the board, catching sight of some new notes and quickly scribbling them down. “I know. There’s just so much else to worry about right now than having rights with your friends.”

“They’re fifteen-year-olds, Allison. There could be an army of redcaps and vampires waiting outside the Great Hall and they’d still find something to bicker over. You’re too good of a friend for them, they don’t deserve you.” Though Lydia’s tone had mostly been dull and sarcastic, there was an honest smile on her face and Allison grinned back. “Now, shall we get back to class?” 

“I suppose we must.” 

 

Stiles marched into Potions with a mission to find that Scott was waving at him from the back row. “Okay, look, I know you hate this whole thing and that it’s a super sensitive topic, whatever, but—“ 

“We need to figure out somewhere for me to hide tonight,” Scott said urgently. Stiles gaped at him like a fish. “I can’t break into Honeyduke’s again, and you know this castle better than anyone else.” 

“Actually,” Stiles said, snapping his fingers and grinning. “I do. And after class, I’m going to show you exactly how well I know this castle. Well, the grounds, technically. Still Hogwarts. Whatever, you know what I mean, right?” 

“Yes, I guess,” Scott said, but now he sounded grumpy, and he was turning away from their conversation to actually pay attention to the professor, even though they were in the back row and could barely hear anyways. Sighing, Stiles got to work, which really meant monitoring Scott’s mixing of the potion to make sure that he didn’t add the wrong ingredient—which he almost did about six times—and that he didn’t stir wrong—Stiles just went ahead and confiscated the spoon at one point. He also caught Allison, at the desk next to theirs with another Gryffindor girl, glancing over every once in a while. 

“Keep the grumpiness under wraps,” he whispered to Scott, who looked up and glared. “Sorry, bro, but it looks like I’m not the only one who thinks you’re acting weird. And yeah, sure, you can get away with it this one time, maybe, but soon enough people are going to start thinking, ‘why does that one kid always snap at everybody on the full moon day?’” 

“Stiles, I really don’t think anybody keeps up with the moon cycle and with my life. It’s one or the other.” 

“See? Jokes like that are going to keep you off people’s maps!” Scott managed a smile, but it was pretty toothy and Stiles almost leaned forward to check if there were fangs hiding in his jaw. The rest of Potions was a little better, and Stiles no longer felt like he might get his hand bitten if it got too close to Scott. 

“Where is this perfect place, then?” Scott asked as he trailed Stiles out of the classroom. 

“Shh, it’s a total secret and we have to be stealthy,” Stiles said, flailing his arms in frustration. Scott sucked at secrets in general, but asking him to be stealthy was like asking the giant squid in the Black Lake to stay off the beach during the summer. “Do you still have that knock off invisibility cloak?” Stiles asked, already heading in the direction of Gryffindor tower. 

“Yes, but it only covers one person you know.” 

“I do know, but I’m better at charms than you are so you use the cloak and I’ll just cast a charm on myself.” 

“Those aren’t fool proof,” Scott responded hesitantly and Stiles rolled his eyes before turning and putting his hands on his best friend’s shoulders. 

“Look. I know that, obviously, but where we’re going people aren’t going to expect us to be. So they won’t see us, okay? We’re awesome, and you’re going to thank me.” 

“You swear?” 

“Not anymore,” Stiles said, and he was glad to see Scott at least smile sincerely as they continued up the staircase to the Gryffindor Tower, to which Scott let him in after Stiles did his traditional flirtation with the Fat Lady—who thought he was totally adorable, by the way. Most Gryffindors snuck in their own friends anyways, so seeing Stiles was no big deal. The prefects turned the other way because they did the same thing, and only the first and second years reacted at all, and mostly to scurry out of the way because people like Jackson had taught them to fear older Slytherins. 

Scott had gotten his invisibility cloak on sale in Diagon Alley from a little cart that had never been seen again that claimed it was an original (it totally wasn’t, they found a tag that said ‘made by pixies’). It had served them well for a few years, before they outgrew it, and now it only served Scott on occasion. It had also begun fading, so that they weren’t always totally invisible if they wore bright colors, moved too fast, or both stood under the cloak. 

Scott swung the cloak around his shoulders on Stiles’ urging, while Stiles cast a charm on himself that would mostly just make him look like a passing shadow (it was a cloudy day and yes it would totally work). “Ready?” he asked the vague outline of Scott’s shoulders that he could see. 

“Yes. Lead the way.” They paused for a moment, and then Stiles realized that if they were already invisible it would be difficult for him to lead Scott. 

“Okay, um… I’ve got it!” he shouted, reaching up and loosening his tie. “Hold out your hand from under the cloak real quick,” he said, and once Scott complied Stiles set the end of the tie, which looked like a faded shadow still from the spell, in Scott’s hand. “There we go!” 

“Now lead the way,” Scott said dryly and Stiles pouted. Usually Scott was there to congratulate him on his brilliance, but clearly being a werewolf meant being unfortunately un-funny. Getting down the stairs from the dormitory was difficult, getting through the Fat Lady’s portrait hole was even worse, but eventually they got the hang of it. As long as Scott didn’t walk too fast and overtake Stiles’ stride, and as long as Scott reacted to Stiles tugging him out of the path of other students. Eventually, they made it out onto the grounds and Stiles started leading Scott in the direction of his brilliant plan. 

“Stiles,” Scott hissed, tugging on the tie. “There’s nothing this way except for the Whomping Willow and Deaton’s cabin. What, are we going to beg Deaton to let me stay there and be his pet werewolf once a month?” 

“Nope. Whomping Willow.” 

“The Whomping Willow?” Scott shouted, and Stiles immediately stopped, only for Scott to run into his back, invisible as it was. 

“Do you want us to get caught?” Stiles hissed, looking around frantically. There were only a couple of people out—it was a brisk day—and they were looking around curiously. “Yes, the Whomping Willow. But Scott, man, you’re just going to have to trust me on this, okay? I, uh, I found something in a book that taught me… You’ll see.” He started walking again and tugged on the tie he held, until Scott followed as well. When they reached the outskirts of the tree, it shook its branches a bit, which had grown back apparently from a very damaged state after the Battle of Hogwarts. 

“Stupefy,” he said quietly, holding his wand out towards the center of the tree. The branches shuddered once more and then stilled. “Come on,” he whispered to Scott, who seemed to hesitate, but followed anyways. Once they reached the base of the tree, Stiles knelt down and started crawling around the bottom of the trunk until… “Gotcha!” 

Clearing a pile of tree branches and leaves out of it, Stiles revealed the hole at the base of the tree that was supposed to be there. “Is that…? 

“It’s an entrance,” Stiles responded triumphantly, letting go of his tie. “I’ll go in first, wait like five seconds, and then slide in.” Of course, Stiles had misjudged how long he’d need to shimmy down the hole so he didn’t drop, and he then ended up face down in the dirt with Scott apologizing and getting up off of him. The cloak had fallen to the ground, so Scott picked it up and folded it up, offering Stiles his tie back while Stiles undid his invisibility charm. “This way,” Stiles said, pointing towards the tunnel. 

“Where does this lead?” 

“I’m not sure, but it’s definitely somewhere isolated.” They walked a little longer, and then there was a patch of light ahead. The tunnel went on further, Stiles wasn’t sure to where, but there was a trap door above their heads and Stiles was pretty sure this was where they got off the ‘creepy tunnel express’. 

“I’ll give you a boost,” Scott offered, getting down on a knee and holding out his hand while Stiles pushed the door open and scrambled up. Scott pulled himself up in an enviable display of upper body strength, and they took in their surroundings. 

“is this—“ 

“The Shrieking Shack,” Scott confirmed.


End file.
